


Readjustment

by texanfan



Series: Reassembling (series) [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-18
Updated: 2011-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texanfan/pseuds/texanfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Principal Wood comes to town?  Sequel to Reassembling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Readjustment

“Demon eggs, Spike?” Xander was turning a strange shade of purple. Spike couldn’t figure out what had him so twisted up.

“Would have been a nice start on Niblet’s college fund if Captain Cardboard hadn’t stomped through,” Spike argued, striving for reasonable although he was seriously put out.

“Riley said those things were biological weapons!” Xander went suddenly pale as some new idea occurred to him. “My God, you’re a terrorist, Spike!”

Spike couldn’t stop the broad grin that spread across his face. “You think so? You think the chip would let me be one?”

Xander sank into a kitchen chair and buried his face in his hands. Spike put a consoling hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what had Xander so upset. No one had died, except his bank account. He’d never get his money out of those lousy blighters now.

Xander raised his head, a resolved look on his face. “Spike.” Spike did not appreciate the talking-to-an-idiot tone of voice Xander was employing. “You remember 9/11, right?”

“Sure, best day of telly I’ve seen in years.” Spike had spent hours flipping through the channels following the lovely carnage. He’d been considerate. He made discreet inquiries and found that none of the Scoobies had ever been to New York or D.C. and that no one they knew was among the dead. After that, he felt free to gloat all he wanted. His humans walked around shell shocked for a week and he couldn’t understand why.

“Do the words Homeland Security have any meaning for you?”

“Yes.” Spike remembered the idiot reaction of people.

“If they get wind of you doing something vaguely terroristy they will investigate us, tap our phones, throw us in jail without trial. Just how much good do you think you’re going to do Dawn then?”

Spike hated it when Xander was logical.

“Fine, spoil all my fun.” Being a terrorist meant either blowing yourself up, which was bloody stupid, or sitting back and allowing other people to create carnage, which was boring. It had just been a fleeting thought anyway. “So, has Cornfed figured out that the bot isn’t the slayer?”

“No, and we’re keeping it that way if at all possible.” Xander was eying him like he was afraid Spike had given in too easily. Spike decided to let him sweat it for a bit. It would be good for him. Besides, there were benefits to letting Xander talk him into being good.

“Do my ears deceive me or are you saying you don’t trust him?” Spike couldn’t help but grin at the reversal.

“I don’t want Nick and Nora Fury reporting back that we’re vulnerable,” Xander explained with an eye to the kitchen door like he was afraid one of them might come bursting in with a full platoon at their back. Good to know he knew who the enemy was.

With this proof of Xander’s good sense, he decided to have mercy on him and change the subject. “The lovely Mrs. Kroeger called this morning.”

Xander leaped on this conversational gambit like a drowning man. “So, was she satisfied that we were in compliance now?”

“Ridiculously pleased to have Dawn’s guardian be the employee of the month at the Doublemeat Palace.” Spike shook his head in disbelief. “Nice enough bint, but a bit dotty.”

“In a town where I’m helping to rebuild Hellmouth High, I think she fits right in. So, we’re officially off the hook?”

“Free and clear as birds,” Spike assured. “And while we’re on the subject of your latest construction project, I’ve been looking into this whole home schooling idea and I think it’s just the ticket.”

Xander’s grin was completely infuriating, also damn sexy, but Spike wasn’t going to tell him that. “Dawn would never forgive us and you know it. Besides, she’ll be more prepared than any other student who’s ever attended school there.”

“I still don’t like it. How many times did all of you almost die there, hmm?”

“Well,” Xander said with an evil smirk. “It was really close this one time when this badass vampire and his gang crashed parent/teacher night.”

Spike couldn’t decide whether to glower or preen. It didn’t help that he knew that was precisely the effect Xander had intended to have on him.

He was saved from coming up with a worthy rejoinder by the invasion of the Iowa farmboy and his moll. Riley’s eyes swept the kitchen and into the next room before he resorted to actually talking to Xander. He was clearly trying to pretend Spike was a potted plant. Finding him and Xander having an afternoon quickie in the crypt had thrown him for a wobbly, which mortified Xander and made Spike’s decade.

“Is Buffy around?” Riley forced himself to ask.

“Sorry, Riley.” Spike marveled at how sincere Xander sounded, when mere moments ago he was admitting he didn’t trust the soldier. “She pulled extra time at work.”

“Oh.” If the missus would stop glowering at him, she might detect the note in Riley’s voice that would tell her where her real problem lay. Of course, it was none of Spike’s business. He just wanted to be ready with a bowl of popcorn to watch the fireworks. “We’re being shipped out. I left a secure email address with Willow for her to contact us.”

“I’ll let her know,” Xander lied with a big smile. “You two be safe out there.”

The two of them nodded at him, gave Spike a final suspicious glare and were gone. For good, with any luck.

Spike didn’t think he was imagining the relieved look on Xander’s face or the release of tension in his shoulders. Looked like a situation in desperate need of exploiting. He was an evil fiend after all. “The witches and Niblet won’t be back for at least an hour,” he observed.

“You’re right,” Xander returned, obviously considering the same form of stress relief Spike was. Like the same brain was controlling both of them, they headed for the basement stairs.

Xander paused to set the lock despite Spike’s attempts to distract him by nibbling along his neck and divesting him of his shirt. Spike thought anyone who barged down without knocking deserved to get an eyeful. In his personal opinion, they ought to sell tickets.

Once the lock was set, Xander was satisfyingly engaged in the proceedings, slipping his hands under Spike’s t-shirt and pulling it over his head as they stumbled down the stairs.

They stopped short of the bed with their mouths fused together as they kicked off their boots. Then Xander got a wicked gleam in his eye and sank to his knees. Spike’s pants went down with him. Xander had an utterly irresistible ‘what have we here’ look on his face as he studied Spike’s bobbing cock just before he gave it an ice cream cone lick from base to crown.

Spike groaned and looked heavenward. If he locked eyes with Xander when he was in this mood he’d embarrass himself with how fast he came. He put his hands on Xander’s shoulders and distracted himself by concentrating on not squeezing. It was almost unbelievable that he was the first guy to ever receive a blowjob from that beautiful mouth, also a huge turn on.

Xander’s enthusiastic attention drew a near howl from him. Damn, but the boy had gotten good in a remarkably short period of time. Spike chanced a look down and could tell Xander was trying to smile with his mouth full of cock. He loved to make Spike lose control. Some other time he’d oblige him but Xander was still wearing his pants and that was a situation that simply couldn’t stand.

With no small reluctance, he pulled Xander off and shoved him toward the bed. “Want you naked, pet. No fair depriving me of access.”

“We playing that game tonight, are we?” Xander asked as he shimmied out of his pants.

Spike couldn’t deny that the thought made his cock twitch. “We could, wasn’t planning on it, but plans can change.”

“Nah.” Xander bounced on the bed before dropping into an enticing sprawl. “Don’t think I have the patience after dealing with Riley.”

Spike nodded in acknowledgement of the reasonableness of that then pounced, straddling Xander’s body and making the bed bounce again. “Good hard fuck it is then.”

Their hands collided as they reached for the bedside table and the lube therein, which made them both laugh. Spike spared a thought for how very good it was to hear Xander laugh as he commandeered the lube. A smile was definitely the best look for Xander’s face and Spike had no little pride that he’d been the one to put it there.

He nibbled along Xander’s jaw line while he plunged his fingers into Xander’s hot, tight arse. If he still wrote poetry he would write odes to that arse. The moans of appreciation were nothing to sneeze at either. He loved the feel of Xander under him. So much trust and love in one hot package. He couldn’t suppress a growl of possession as he positioned himself between Xander’s legs. The shudder of anticipation as Xander arched up to meet him was gratifying in the extreme. This glorious creature was all his, Spike thought as he thrust into the welcoming embrace of Xander’s body.

The chip had taught him to rein in his demon’s desire to thrust hard and fast. Nothing brought pleasant proceedings to a halt faster than a blazing migraine. So slow and gentle was the order of the day. Xander’s appreciative sounds helped soothe the beast within and Spike began to find a rhythm that was satisfying Xander grabbed Spike’s shoulders and drew him down into a kiss even though the move practically folded him in half. Xander seemed to continually come up with ways to make his demon happy. The kiss was enthusiastic surrender. Xander was a great kisser, opening under Spike with passion and abandon that made the necessarily slow, gentle thrusts no hardship at all.

When Spike pulled away to let Xander get enough air, Xander stared up at him with bright innocent eyes and said, “I want you to bite me.” As if he didn’t go out hunting vampires most nights. As if Spike didn’t have good reason to know being bitten by a vampire, possibly turned, was the greatest horror of his life.

“Right, what demon has possessed you this time?” It was the only explanation Spike could come up with for such a request. It threw him so completely off his game that he came to a complete stop poised over Xander.

“100% human Xander here!” The boy had the temerity to look offended that Spike would suggest such a thing. Either that or he was angry that Spike had stopped. “We know chipped vampires can bite people.” Suddenly Xander turned his face away, but not enough that Spike missed the furious blush that had risen to his cheeks. “I think the idea of feeding you is really sexy. It’s something I can do for you that no one else can, it just feels like something I want to do.”

Spike gave a moment’s thought to his own physical state. He’d eaten fairly well today and wasn’t particularly hungry. It would be as safe as it ever would be. He allowed the intense arousal the suggestion sparked in him to show on his face as he resumed sliding deeply into Xander. He leaned forward to mouth along the base of Xander’s throat where he would place his mark.

Spike’s renewed efforts obviously met with Xander’s approval as he tipped his head to the side, baring his throat in invitation.

Spike slipped into game face without conscious decision. He retained just enough coherence to remember to be extra gentle as he pierced the skin at the base of Xander’s throat. Enough blood for two swallows seeped into his mouth from the small cuts, but the pheromone-rich blood placated his demon in a way nothing else could, and he came with a roar of satisfaction.

At the feel of Spike’s fangs in him, Xander jerked and arched tightly against Spike, coming a handful of breaths after Spike did.

All too aware that he needed to get off Xander to let him breathe, Spike rolled to the side but positioned himself so he could lick at the seeping wound contentedly.

“That was freaking amazing,” Xander panted out, running a hand around Spike’s neck while keeping access to his neck open.

The wound marked Xander as his and he couldn’t have been more pleased to have it there. It was just another sign of Xander’s love and acceptance of him that made Spike willing to put up with all the myriad frustrations of living life as virtually human. Xander kept overwhelming him with his giving nature. Still, he needed to introduce some caution, or he could lose much more than he was willing to give up. “That was the most incredible gift I’ve ever gotten, luv,” Spike tried to infuse his voice with the depth of appreciation he truly felt. “But we have to be careful. We only do this when I’m nice and well fed.”

Xander scrunched up his nose in confusion. Spike despaired of himself that he found it cute. “Wouldn’t the chip fire if you got out of hand?”

“If I’m hungry and have the taste of your blood in my mouth, might not matter. Instinct can be mighty strong. Besides, didn’t look like you were exactly suffering there,” he added smugly.

Xander blushed again. It was positively adorable that he was lying in bed with a vampire that had just fucked him through the mattress while feeding on him and he could still blush about it. “It kinda intensified everything.”

“Yeah, well, you dying with a smile on your face is still you dying, and I’d like to avoid that, if you don’t mind,” Spike cautioned.

Xander nodded solemnly. “Got it, make sure you’re well fed before we play with the pretty fangs.”

Spike lapped one last time at his mark and slipped to human face again. “You think my fangs are pretty, do you?”

“Let’s just say that now I know why Buffy always blushed whenever one of us asked about the time she fed Angel. And I get the fun without the seriously unfun trip to the hospital.”

“So, you already know all about the dangers of feeding a hungry vampire.” Spike nodded sagely.

“I do, and maybe I’m a bit crazy when you figure everything together,” Xander allowed while he ran a hand down Spike’s back. “But I feel really safe with you. We wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t.”

“Want you to feel safe, Xander.” Spike laid his head on Xander’s chest where he could listen to his nice, steady heartbeat while giving Xander free rein to keep running a hand over his back. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

“I know,” Xander acknowledged, and there didn’t seem to be anything else to say on the subject so they indulged in a bit of post coital napping as neither of them would cop to snuggling.

 

Chapter Two

The girls clattering around in the kitchen woke Spike from his doze. Xander clearly hadn’t heard them yet and Spike debated waking him up. Catching a glimpse of his mark at the base of Xander’s throat, Spike decided he’d wake him for dinner. He hadn’t taken that much but he wanted Xander to get his strength back quickly.

He slipped on his pants and headed upstairs. No reason to hide what the two of them had been up to from the girls. Hell, he felt like preening after a session like that. He shut the door softly so as not to wake Xander up and turned to Willow and Tara unloading groceries.

“So, what’s for supper then?”

Tara didn’t miss a beat putting eggs and milk into the fridge. “Stir fry.”

“Not going to foist that tofu shite on us are you?” Spike demanded.

“Don’t worry, Spike,” Willow interjected. “We have red meat for the men of the house.”

Spike acknowledged that as his due and started nosing about in the bags to see if they contained any treats. Tara slapped his hand away. “You get dessert after dinner just like everyone else.”

Spike half growled at her presumption when Willow broke in. “Spike, can I talk to you about something?”

Spike lifted an eyebrow in invitation.

The minute Willow went into chatter mode he knew he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “I think the bot really has the Doublemeat programming down pat now. And since we found out that even the fast food places aren’t demon free a few weeks ago-“

“Good thing paralyzing venom doesn’t work on robots, eh?” Spike interrupted before Willow could get up a good head of steam. “I take it you want to do the fighting upgrades then.”

Willow nodded, teeth embedded in her bottom lip. Spike thought he really ought to make the chit work harder for it, but Xander’s blood zinging through his system had him in a charitable frame of mind, good enough he could even stomach protracted time with the bot. Besides, it wasn’t as if the upgrades weren’t necessary.

“When do you want to start?” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tara whip her head around so fast he wondered if she’d gotten whiplash. Startling her that much almost made the whole ordeal worthwhile.

Willow brightened like she’d just been handed a new bit of technology to play with. Course, that was pretty close to true. “I’m off for spring break in a couple weeks. Could we do it then?”

Spike was amused to realize that she’d given herself two weeks to soften him up. “Why not.”

Willow actually clapped her hands. “I promise to do the programming as fast as I can. You won’t regret this Spike.”

“I already regret it,” he told her. “Still gotta be done.”

“What’s gotta be done?” Spike wished he’d headed back downstairs for a bit of alone time until dinner. Still, the look of Xander all deliciously rumpled, rubbing the sleep out of one eye, Spike’s mark obvious to all on his neck, was a sight worth relishing.

“Will wants me to help her program the bot,” he said casually, trying not to show just how much Xander’s blatant display affected him.

“Bleh! That sounds like a week full of horrible,” Xander voiced his sentiments exactly. Then cringed as his words registered. “Sorry Wills.”

A casual glance at the two witches showed startlement and disapproving looks. They were going to have trouble over this. He suspected there might be a throwdown right then and there but the Bit made her appearance just then.

“Hey guys!” she called, banging her way in through the back door. “What’s for dinner?”

“Stir fry,” Tara tried to soften her expression for Dawn, but Spike could still see the tension around her eyes.

“Hi Dawnie,” Xander called back, oblivious to the frosty atmosphere in the kitchen.

“Dawn, put your things upstairs. Spike, Xander, go get dressed. Dinner is in twenty minutes.” It was strange to see Tara slip into drill sergeant mode while putting the rice on to boil.

“Too much manly skin for the dinner table, huh?” Xander laughed.

“Nice hickey,” Dawn commented with a devilish gleam as she walked by. That girl was too sassy for her own good. It was nice to know there was no censure from that corner at least. There would be plenty from every other.

Xander’s hand strayed up to the bite mark like he’d forgotten it was there. Spike considered making it hurt a bit next time if it was going to be forgettable. Then again, Xander was still half asleep and therefore forgivable. Xander blushed and headed back downstairs.

Spike decided to delay the confrontation he knew was coming and headed down himself.

“Fancy a quick shower before dinner, pet,” Spike suggested with as much temptation as he could throw into it.

“Showers with you are never quick.” Spike had to concede Xander was right. Once he had him all warm and slippery it was hard to let him go.

“True, but they’re fun,” he insisted, slipping his arms around a trim waist.

Xander grabbed his hands before they could go anywhere interesting. “Cold stir fry is disgusting, Spike.”

As he’d always suspected, Xander’s stomach ruled over his libido. Then again, wearing him out before a seriously confrontational evening probably wasn’t in his best interests anyway. “I’ll be the model of discretion,” Spike assured.

“I didn’t say I could keep my hands off you either,” Xander complained, but he followed him into the bathroom all the same.

Five minutes later Spike was having as chaste a mutual shower as he could manage. He looked Xander over while washing his back. “How are you feeling?”

“Great actually.” Xander pressed himself back into Spike’s hands. He was a sybaritic creature. “Got my nap, give me food, I’m good for most of the night.”

Spike was decidedly glad to hear it. They finished rinsing off and Spike resisted the urge to start something while Xander dried off. The confrontation was brewing upstairs and it was better to have it out and deal with it now than to let it steep. Witches could get up to nearly anything given a full head of steam.

He did notice Xander pull on a t-shirt that did nothing to hide his bite mark. Spike despaired of himself that he cared so much. Of course, it was abundantly clear that the cat was well and truly out of the bag so there was no point in hiding it, but it gave Spike a deep stab of joy that Xander wasn’t trying to do so.

They reemerged just in time to have serving dishes thrust into their hands on their way to the dining room.

“Anything blow up at school today, Bit?” Spike asked to break the silence.

“Nathan screwed up an experiment in chemistry but they got the fire out pretty quickly,” Dawn responded nonchalantly. She was coming along well in Spike’s estimation.

“Pity that,” he said in the same tone of voice.

“Yeah. He’s so going to have to take that class again.”

“While the terror twins try to out blasé each other, Riley and his wife stopped by,” Xander informed the witches. Talking about Captain Cardboard was liable to ruin Spike’s appetite.

“Do you think he suspected about the bot?” Willow fretted.

“He was so big with the awkward I don’t think there’s much chance he noticed,” Xander said.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have told him the truth?” Tara raised what Spike considered a dead issue.

“Nick and Nora Fury have their own agenda and I don’t think it has our best interests as a high priority. I’m much more comfortable with the military keeping its hands off the Hellmouth.” Spike found himself appreciating Xander in command mode. It gave him a sexy edge that was truly appealing.

But it wouldn’t do to let him get too far ahead of himself. “Don’t pick around your spinach, pet,” he chided. “You need the iron.”

Tara chimed in again to shoot him down. “Actually, Xander, you should have some more of the beef. It’s very lean.”

“Never let it be said the Xan man turned down more beef,” Xander said, blushing furiously. Tara sent a glare Spike’s way, Willow bit her lip in consternation and Dawn giggled. Spike couldn’t wait to see the watcher’s explosive reaction, but one disaster at a time.

They got through the meal with no one turned into a toad and Spike was just getting ready to enjoy one of their quiet evenings in the living room. All of them watching a bit of telly, before Spike dragged Xander off to ravish him sounded like a fine end to the evening to him, but Willow nixed that.

“Xander, could I talk to you, just for a minute?” She gave Xander the big eyes routine and Spike knew his evening was sunk.

“Sure, Wills,” Xander caved immediately.

The two of them headed up to the witches’ room. Spike didn’t like that at all. Took the battle to her stronghold rather than his. He followed at a discreet distance.

“They’re going to have a private conversation, Spike,” Tara snapped. Dawn rolled her eyes.

Spike liked Tara, he really did, but she was getting in his way tonight. Even so, it was best not to have her thinking he was exercising undue influence or he’d never hear the end of it. “Fine. Bit, when Xander comes back down could you tell him I’ve gone downstairs?”

“Sure, Spike.” Spike only had a slim chance of having his message passed along. Dawn was already transfixed by some show with earnest young men and plucky girls. That was fine, he’d know when Xander was finished with his interrogation. There was a spot in the basement where he could hear the goings on in the master bedroom very clearly. It wasn’t a fact he’d advertised.

He reached the spot long before the conversation had gotten anywhere interesting. “—spit it out, Wills. It’s not like I don’t know what you and Tara are upset about.” Sounded like Willow had spent the first few minutes beating around the bush. No surprise there.

“That’s just it, Xander, it’s not just that.” Spike could imagine her jabbing an accusing finger at the bite mark. “That’s just a symptom. It’s the way you are with Spike, you seem, well, submissive. And it worries me.”

That statement took Spike by surprise. Suddenly, he was extremely interested in Xander’s answer.

“Subm-, Wills, have you met me? You know, he who mouths off at big nasties?” Spike found the indignation in Xander’s voice amusing.

“Xander, you sit at his feet in the living room,” Willow was unmoved by Xander’s outrage.

Xander’s sigh came through loud and clear. “Have you noticed what happens when I sit at his feet? I get my shoulders rubbed or my scalp massaged.” Xander’s voice took on a slightly dreamy quality. “I love getting my scalp massaged.”

Spike made a mental note to pay more attention to Xander’s scalp.

“That’s not all, there’s the way he talks to you, telling you what to do, like at dinner tonight,” Willow insisted, clearly unwilling to give ground. Sounded like she’d been thinking about this for some time.

Xander’s incredulity came through loud and clear. “You’re upset that Spike insisted I eat my vegetables?”

“Don’t you make a joke out of this, mister. You let him feed on you.” Spike could practically see the idea occur to her. “You did let him right? His chip is still working, right?”

Xander chuckled at her. “Yes, Willow, I let him. Had to talk him into it actually. Don’t tell him I said this, but he can be a big old mother hen when he gets going.”

Spike started plotting his revenge for that remark, such insolence couldn’t be allowed to pass unpunished.

“It was your idea?” Spike wasn’t sure why she found that so surprising. She already knew what a generous heart Xander had. She’d been the beneficiary often enough. “But, Xander, why?”

“Because it’s something I can give him that no one else can. Look, I know this freaks you out but I don’t want a big deal made out of it. That’s kind of why I waited until after Riley cleared out to do it. I don’t want Riley thinking I’m doing what he was.”

“Then maybe you better explain to me how it’s different.” Spike could envision the crossed arms and hard stare.

“It’s about the same difference as Anya and me playing a few kinky games, and one of us going to a whore house.” Spike was a bit taken aback that Xander would put it quite that crudely. It was a sign of just how upset the suggestion had made him.

“I didn’t mean,” he could hear the witch backing down, imagined her taking several steps back. “I just don’t understand, Xander.”

Spike was a bit sorry Xander had obviously gotten his temper in check with his next words. “I’m not going out to get some random vampire to bite me for kicks, Willow. I’m giving someone I love and trust a piece of myself. Look, Spike’s been through the wringer. That chip, which believe me I’m pretty grateful for since I’m not sure we all would still be here without it, takes away so much of his power. People can attack him and he can’t fight back, he had to come to his enemies for food. If playing bottom boy gives him some of his mojo back, I’m happy to oblige.”

“TMI!” Willow squealed. Spike didn’t like the idea of being coddled, considered a charity case.

“Hey, you asked,” Xander continued ruthlessly. “It’s not exactly a hardship you know, Spike’s really talented in the batting cage. And as far as the biting goes, gives double penetration a whole new meaning.”

“Xander!” Spike could picture Willow covering her ears and he could hear her fleeing Xander’s lurid descriptions. She’d asked and she was getting an earful. Xander’s evil laughter was music to Spike’s ears.

Their voices trailed off as they left the bedroom and Spike dropped on the bed for a think. His demon had loved playing master to Xander, so much so that he hadn’t really thought of switching positions. From the sounds of it, Xander didn’t particularly mind, but it bore thinking about.

Xander had handled Willow brilliantly. Willow would tell her girl the results of the conversation and neither of them would be able to look at either of them without blushing for a week. Seemed only fair that he take on telling the Watcher. Xander would protest, afraid Spike would get up the old boy’s nose about it, so he just wouldn’t tell Xander. Not like Xander was going to be racing to beat him to it. Besides, he usually swung by Rupert’s for a bit after patrol just to let him know if something strange had come up while he was out and about, and to help himself to some of Rupert’s good whiskey. Sounded like a perfect time to hit him with the news.

____________________________________________

Patrol was deadly dull. After staking a couple of fledges early in the evening the whole town was dead.

Deciding it wouldn’t hurt Rupert’s mood to check in on the early side, Spike wound up barging into his flat at the ridiculously civilized hour of 1am.

“Do come in, Spike,” Rupert said from his armchair where he was strumming on his guitar. Spike ignored the sarcasm as irrelevant and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. He was going to need fortification for this conversation.

Stalling for time, he got the report out of the way. “Couldn’t find a decent scrap all night. Right boring out there.”

“Would it do any good to ask you to keep out of the scotch?” Rupert asked with some despair. Spike merely lifted an eyebrow his directions as he poured himself a healthy three fingers.

Considering the situation for a second he poured two more fingers in another glass and handed it over.

The game they tended to play with each other shifted suddenly. “Just what Earth-shattering news do you have to impart?” Rupert set the glass down untouched.

“Bit Xander tonight.” Spike saw no point in beating around the bush. Nothing but a waste of time if you asked him.

“I see.” Rupert downed a swallow of his drink and cast an appraising eye at Spike leaning next to the liquor cabinet. Spike thought it wise to give himself room to maneuver. “Frankly, I’m amazed it took this long.”

That was not the response Spike had been braced for but he could roll with it. He shrugged. “Xander asked me to.”

Rupert rolled his eyes, dangling his drink from his fingertips. “Of course he did. He’s known vampire bites can be pleasurable for some time now, he has a vampire for a boyfriend. I was hardly going to suggest it, but I had thought he was indulging and hiding the marks.”

Spike decided to venture out into the murky waters. “So, this mean you’re not angry, then?”

“On the contrary, I’m furious. However, it has been pointed out to me that Xander is a grown man, capable of making his own decisions, however ill advised they may be.” He sipped a bit more scotch, clearly savouring the flavor. “There are some things that need to be explained to him.”

“Already gave him the safety lecture. Mouthy git called me a mother hen.” Spike threw back the rest of his scotch.

“Impertinent pup.” Spike narrowed his eyes at Rupert’s thin smile. He didn’t appreciate being mocked.

“Nevertheless,” Rupert continued. “I believe I’ll have a word with him.”

Spike set his glass down and moved to the door. “Be my guest. Love to hear what he calls you.”

“One shudders to think,” he said to Spike’s retreating back.

 

Giles had his conversation with Xander. It got about the reaction they both expected. Willow and Tara avoided looking at either of them for a solid week. Whenever one of them accidentally looked their way they blushed furiously. Spike made a game out of trying to catch their eyes just to watch the show.

Rupert didn’t provide nearly as much entertainment. Having dutifully imparted his wisdom, he seemed to consider the matter closed and merely rolled his eyes at Spike’s attempts to get a rise out of the girls. The game lost its shine when Dawn started asking for embarrassing details of Spike and Xander’s sex life. It was a little difficult to tell Dawn to mind her own business while leering at the witches.

Within a couple weeks everything had returned to normal with the exception of a luscious addition to Spike and Xander’s already extremely good sex life. Even helping Willow work on the bot wasn’t as hard as Spike had thought it would be. Seeing the bot was still not something he liked and he still cringed when a bit of its original sexbot programming surfaced, but the bright, sharp pain had subsided. Spike was the happiest he’d been since he woke up in that stupid white room at the Intiative. If he really thought about it, he was the happiest he’d been since before Dru left him.

So naturally, that’s when the new principal made his appearance.

Chapter Three

“I didn’t realize principals could be hot!” Dawn exclaimed for something like the fourth time that evening. Spike found himself strangely nostalgic for the days when her teenaged lust was directed his way.

“I don’t like it,” Spike voiced his frustration, not bothering to differentiate the various levels the statement encompassed.

“Nor do I,” Rupert echoed. “Our little charade will not withstand close scrutiny from a public official.”

“We’ll have to come up with something that will satisfy him,” Willow chimed in. “Unless we pull Dawn out of school, he has complete access to her.”

Dawn looked horrorstruck. “You’re not going to pull me out of school are you?”

Before Spike could say that he was seriously considering it, Tara piped up, “Of course we won’t.”

Spike still thought it was just one more reason to look into the concept of home schooling. Not only could they avoid nasty problems like the new, overly inquisitive principal but Spike wouldn’t have to curse the chip for preventing him from ripping apart the first boy that broke Niblet’s heart.

Spike realized he’d gotten so distracted that he’d missed part of the conversation. Xander talking caused him to tune back in. “I only saw him for the groundbreaking ceremony.”

“Groundbreaking ceremony?” Spike quizzed. “You’ve been working on that site for six months.”

“It was for the new freshman building. They’re in temporary buildings at the moment. We only get to build these things a piece at a time, Spike.” Xander looked up at him with such an endearing expression he took all the bite out of his words.

Spike waved away the explanation, indicating Xander should continue, which he promptly did. “Anyway, he seems like a pretty straight up kind of guy. He may just consider Dawn some kind of at-risk case. If we can put his mind at ease on that front we may be in the clear.”

“Well, a parent-teacher conference is out.” Spike was surprised to hear Willow make this pronouncement. Normally she was far more confident about her work. “The bot won’t stand up to questioning from someone as sharp as you say he is.”

“Would he settle for one of us?” Tara asked.

“I can ask,” Dawn offered. “But can we wait and see if he even asks to meet with anyone? I’m kind of enjoying the eye candy without the angst.”

Despite adult grumbling, no one argued with her.

#########

Life went along well for a few more weeks. The new principal failed to go stalkerish and they all started to relax. Spike considered himself a fool for not realizing that’s just when life bites you in the arse.

He and Xander had taken to patrolling together. Xander said he liked the chance to stretch his legs. Spike suspected he was just trying to give him a break from the bot. They had dusted a few fledges, and beaten back a minor incursion, more than likely all the action they would see, so they sent the bot on to scout ahead. It was handy in a fight, as a distraction if nothing else, but still felt off and wrong to both of them.

With no bad guys in sight and the bot out of earshot, the side of the nearest tomb looked very inviting for a little after fight action.

Spike pinned Xander up against the cement wall just to hear him gasp, as their denim-covered cocks crushed together. He imprisoned Xander’s hands lest they roam and distract him as he began nibbling along his neck. Xander moaned and let his head fall back. Spike was very evilly considered making him come in his pants when Xander’s eyes suddenly went from passion-filled slits to wide eyed fear and he threw Spike to the side.

Spike hit the ground and rolled to a crouch ready to have words with Xander about his methods. Xander was standing between him and a tall, good-looking man wielding a stake. All of Spike’s ire came home to roost. He’d let himself be so distracted by ravishing Xander that he’d allowed a human to sneak up on him. If Xander hadn’t spotted him, Spike might very well be dust at this moment.

“Stand aside, you don’t know what he is,” came the man’s smooth, entirely reasonable voice. There was a note of authority to it that might have even swayed some punk kid.

Xander eyed the stake in the man’s hand and replied, “If you mean the fact that he’s a vampire, yeah I know.” Xander raised his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s all right, nothing bad was going to happen.”

Spike put a hand on Xander’s shoulder. He didn’t trust this would be do gooder to recognize Xander as a white hat. He could just as easily decide he was a threat that needed to be eliminated. Xander was far too willing to give the benefit of the doubt to someone on no better basis than they were human.

“I’d heard better things about you than this, Mr. Harris.” The man’s dark clothing masked his movements, which was doubtless the intent. Even Spike was having a bit of difficulty keeping a bead on him. The fact that he knew who Xander was didn’t make Spike any happier.

“And I had taken you for a man who wouldn’t leap to conclusions without knowing all the facts, Principal Wood,” Xander countered.

That brought Spike up short. “This is Principal Hottie?”

“Spike, you’re not helping,” Xander groaned.

Spike surveyed the principal with a new eye. He had a proper fighter’s stance, even while his face twisted in confusion at Spike’s remark. He wouldn’t be an easy person to take by surprise. “By the looks of you, you just might survive being principal,” he allowed.

“Oh really,” Wood shot back, clearly eager for an opening.

“Our last two principals were eaten,” Xander supplied offhandedly.

There was the half-disbelieving look screwing up his face again, but he never took his eyes off Spike. There was a speculative look in the principal’s eye, as if he was trying to place where he’d seen Spike before. He could almost feel Wood’s eyes raking down his body and he didn’t like it at all. A sneer formed on Wood’s face as he seemed to come to a conclusion. “Nice coat,” he said in a neutral voice. “Where’d you get it?”

Spike didn’t think he’d ever laid eyes on Wood before, but the man was making his skin crawl. “Picked it up in New York,” he answered simply, not wanting to be drawn in to anything with this man. “Mind putting the stake away, mate? Not exactly proper for a friendly conversation.”

“I don’t have friendly conversations with vampires,” he bit out. Then, with a dismissive tilt of his head, he added, “or their pets.”

“Hey, I’m not a pet!” Xander protested.

“That bite on your neck says differently,” he insisted, which let Spike know he was doing his best to keep both of them in view.

Xander’s hand went to the collar of his shirt where it had fallen open during their earlier play. Instead of covering the mark, Xander pulled it farther back. “Do I look like some kind of junkie to you?” Xander demanded. “He won’t even bite me again until I eat a plate of liver.” Xander cast a murderous glare Spike’s direction. “I’m still trying to decide if it’s worth it.”

“You need the iron,” Spike told him with a smile. He noticed Xander had taken a step toward Wood with his little display of pique and Spike took a corresponding step to the side. If he could get Wood fixed a bit more on him, and Xander not quite in his line of sight, they could get this situation under control.

Wood seemed to tumble to the fact that he was being maneuvered and took a swing at Spike. He came a bit close for comfort to connecting, but Xander hit him from the side and Spike was able to kick the stake out of his hand with a minimum of effort. Didn’t even get a twinge from the chip over it.

Spike crouched down to speak directly to where Xander had Wood pinned to the grass. “As you can tell by the fact you’re still alive,” he began, conversationally. “We’re the good guys. We’re out here keeping the world safe for puppies and Christmas, and you interrupted our well-deserved break.”

Wood looked very much like he wanted to spit in his face but held his tongue. Looked like the name, rank and serial number routine, so he decided to forego questions.

“Now, there are a number of ways this can go. Xander here can let you go, we all shake hands and head our separate ways, no harm done. You can be a stupid hardass and we’ll have to do something nasty to you.” Wood looked like he could spit nails at that taunt. “Or, you can realize we’re all on the same side here and we can work together. You obviously know about vampires, you know about the slayer?”

That loosened his tongue a hair. “I was raised by a watcher.”

Spike nodded his head sagely as if he’d been expecting exactly that response. Xander was focusing all his concentration on maintaining the pin. Spike was proud of his ability to resist the temptation to engage in his usual witty banter. But Xander couldn’t hold the git all night and it was time to wrap this up. “Then you know all about slayers. That’s good. We work with the Slayer. Buffy Summers. Maybe you’ve heard of her?” Spike took the narrow eyed glare as confirmation. “Check with your watcher contacts, I’m sure they can verify everything for you.”

“We’re going to let you up now,” Xander said in a voice that hid the strain it was taking to hold the powerful fighter down. “Come talk to us after you’ve checked everything out.”

Xander and Spike backed away from Wood slowly. He scrambled to his feet with less grace than he would have liked, Spike was sure. Xander had pocketed the stake Spike had kicked away but Spike doubted that was his only weapon. They kept a goodly distance between them, backing off away from each other. Spike certainly had no intention of turning his back on the bloke.

“Let’s pick up the slayer and call it a night, pet,” Spike said as much for Wood’s benefit as Xander’s.

“Sounds good,” Xander agreed, then added almost on reflex, “and I’m not a pet.”

Chapter Four

The encounter with the principal called for a family meeting post haste, so they all gathered in the Summer’ living room the following afternoon. No one was happy with the change in circumstances. The bot was bad enough at impersonating a somewhat vapid version of Buffy’s public persona. It was far too much to ask for it to fool someone expecting to see the greatest slayer who ever lived. Spike would lay odds Wood could beat it, hardly the slayer who had handed Spike his arse more than once.

“If he has been raised by a watcher, and his fighting last night would suggest he is telling the truth, he will never be fooled by a robot,” Rupert insisted. “He will be trained to notice details and he’s suspicious enough to be observing closely.”

“Do you think we could get away with a shell game?” Xander asked, miming moving shells around on a table. His hand gestures tended to get larger the more nervous he was. Spike leaned forward to rub at the tension in his neck. It was gratifying to watch Xander relax back into his hand, but it didn’t answer the question.

“I don’t think we have a choice.” Willow was a nervous wreck sitting on the couch. Tara rubbed her arms trying to calm her just like he was trying to relax Xander. He wasn’t sure either of them was having that much success. He was fairly sure they were royally screwed this time.

“Quite so.” Rupert looked like he wished there was someone to reassure him.

“So, shall we call the bloke up and invite him to join our little coffee klatch?” Spike proposed. Willow looked like she’d rather put the whole thing off for as long as possible. Rupert looked like he’d had the same idea Spike had. This man was a threat. Inviting him in seemed the best way to calm his suspicions. Spike knew the others would never consider killing the man to be an answer, but accidents happened on patrol.

“We gave him an invitation last night,” Xander reminded him. “I think we should give him time to check with his contacts. Get the word that there’s a no stake order for you.”

Spike gave a slightly firmer rub to Xander’s shoulders that had him humming in appreciation. “I think you delivered that message rather handily last night, luv.”

“I think we should give it a day or two,” Willow said, obviously stalling for time.

They did a few rounds on the subject. Eventually, they agreed to wait until the next day.

They scattered after dinner. No one wanted to discuss Wood anymore, but conversation on other topics definitely lagged. Spike was having a bit of a nosh while Will did the dishes. They were mostly ignoring each other, lost in their own thoughts, when the phone rang.

As bad luck would have it, Red was the one who answered. She was a big, bad uber-witch who had gone toe to toe with a hell god, but put her against a little mortal authority and she crumbled like a stack of cheap playing cards.

“Principal Wood, how are you?” Will grimaced like she’d just been caught sneaking off school grounds. How these children had ever conducted a successful, clandestine campaign against the underworld was beyond Spike. Chalk it up to Sunnydale obliviousness.

“Ask him his business, Will,” Spike said loudly enough it would carry through the phone line. He made a gesture which he hoped conveyed both “get on with it” and “don’t let him push you around.”

The embarrassed shrug he got in return could have meant she didn’t understand, but she seemed to stiffen her spine a bit and, with a bit more force, “I assume you found out we were telling you the truth.”

“I heard it, but I still don’t believe it,” Wood responded in that clipped condescending tone. “What kind of slayer calls a vampire an ally? Not to mention one as ruthless as William the Bloody.”

Spike hadn’t been called ruthless in quite some time. It warmed him to his toes.

Willow took the comment as besmirching Buffy’s reputation, and it put a fire under her. “Oh yeah? Just how many apocalypses have you averted, buster? We’re at six and counting!”

Spike smiled into his mug, maybe he could leave this to the witch after all.

“The ends justify the means, Miss Rosenberg? Is that really how you want to play this?” Oh he was a smooth one, he’d have the little witch tied up in knots in no time.

“No, that’s not what I said at all,” Willow protested. “You don’t even know Spike! He’s saved all our lives more than once. He even helped us avert an apocalypse before the chip.”

She just had to bring up that humiliating bit of trivia. If he let this go on she’d spill everything she knew before she was done. Time to take over. He wrested the phone from Willow who was loath to give it up. She was spitting mad by now, and eager to give Wood a piece of her rather brilliant mind.

“Maybe you should take your poke at me, mate, rather than sully the Slayer’s good name.” Spike had had about all he could take of this self important prick.

“Just what are you suggesting?” Suspicion dripped off his tone. That was all right, he had plenty of reason.

“I believe I suggested you come talk to us. I suspect Xander was thinking we were offering a nice dinner, but I don’t think that’s our best course, is it?”

“What time do you begin patrol? I’m not coming to have tea.” Spike was bizarrely relieved not to have offered hospitality. The whole situation was a powder keg.

“Nine sharp. We like to have Dawn in bed before we head out.” It amused Spike to sound like a responsible parent type.

“I’ll be there.” The click of the line going dead was sharp in his ear.

“Best assemble the troops,” Spike told an anxious Willow. “Company’s coming.”

 

Dawn was out of the line of fire for this interview. She’d no doubt be listening in at the top of the stairs, but as long as she stayed quiet that was fine by Spike. Willow had filled everyone in on the earlier conversation and they had their cover stories ready. The Slayer was definitely unavailable to Principal Wood. He was too sharp.

They had the television on as a distraction, but no one could have said what program was on. Conversation had gotten so strained that they had all lapsed into silence. No one wanted to be in midsentence of something damning when the knock came at the door, and no one could think of anything but Wood’s imminent arrival. When the knock finally did come, it was more of a relief than anything else.

Showtime.

Rupert opened the door while the rest of them held their seats in the living room. “Principal Wood,” he greeted without offering any kind of invitation to enter. In this case, it was only partially vampire protocol.

Wood nodded, approving the caution or acknowledging the adversarial roles Spike wasn’t sure. “Mr. Giles.”

He stepped in and his eyes swept the assembled Scoobies, a sneer prominent on his face. Spike didn’t really mind the fact that Wood looked at him with hatred. Hatred wasn’t a bad thing to have aimed at you, if it was tinged with proper amounts of respect and fear. But the wanker was eying Xander like he was something loathsome and that made his hackles rise.

Ever the peacemaker, Tara broke the silence. “Won’t you sit down?”

“I think I’d rather stand, thanks,” Wood said in that smooth, cultured voice that made Spike want to push his face in.

“Perhaps it would be wise to state our intentions.” Rupert smoothly inserted himself into the situation. Spike fancied that he was no happier at the way Wood was snarling at his children than Spike was. “If this is some new attempt by the Watcher’s Council to gain control of the Slayer I believe Buffy made her views on that quite clear last time.”

Spike realized that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Trust Rupert to come up with a new horror to contemplate.

Wood smiled for the first time since he’d entered the house. “She made quite an impression. No, I’m not here from the Council. You might call me an independent operator.”

He and Rupert nodded at each other. “So, what is your interest then?” Rupert pressed.

“I’ve heard a lot about this slayer, thought I’d see what she was all about for myself.” Wood eyed Spike again. “Hard to believe a slayer would work with not one but two vampires.”

Spike held his tongue. This was Rupert’s show. Spike didn’t go in for subtle, it wasn’t his strength, so he’d leave it to the Watcher. Xander was not so inclined. “You’d be astounded how much more effective you can be if you have powerful fighters on your side,” Xander said snidely.

Spike had to hide a chuckle even as he wished Xander would keep quiet. They needed to maneuver this bloke, and antagonizing him would just keep him on his guard.

“I prefer allies it’s safe to turn my back on,” Wood shot back. “And where is the Slayer. Thought I’d be meeting her here tonight.”

“She’s closing tonight. Child Protective Services prefers her to be gainfully employed to retain custody of Dawn.,” Rupert supplied smoothly. What he didn’t supply is that they had made sure the bot volunteered for the late shift to keep it out of the way.

Wood surveyed the group again, his gaze lingering on each of them as if he was trying to read their secrets. “Is that right? Then who was I patrolling with tonight?”

“Me, mate,” Spike said casually. It seemed the best opening he was likely to get.

“Along with the rest of us,” Xander was quick to add. As great a joy as Xander’s love for him was, Xander’s protectiveness was going to throw a serious monkey wrench in the works.

“Not this time, luv,” Spike corrected without looking away from Wood. “Principal wants to know why the Slayer would work with a vampire, he ought to see first hand.”

“Spike,” Xander hissed. “You can’t trust this guy at your back.”

“And he doesn’t trust me at his. That’s the point, isn’t it.”

Spike could hear Xander drawing breath to launch a fresh protest when Rupert intervened. “Spike is quite correct, Xander. Principal Wood needs to see for himself why we allow Spike such access.”

Spike cut his eyes briefly to Rupert. In that briefly exchanged glance he thought he saw agreement in the Watcher’s eyes. He was far too cagey a man not to have figured out what Spike had in mind. They would talk later, after the deed was done.

“Can’t he do that without Spike being alone with him?” Willow asked. Spike found himself rather touched that Willow was so concerned for him.

“How will he know one of you isn’t holding my leash that way?” Spike reasoned.

“I don’t care what he wants. I don’t like the idea of you alone with him when you can’t defend yourself against him.” Xander was like a dog with a bone.

“Afraid I’ll stake your pet vampire?” Wood sneered.

“I’m very afraid you’ll kill my boyfriend, yes.”

“Can’t be a very powerful fighter then, can he?”

“The chip only works with humans. He kills demons just fine.” Give it another minute and Xander and Wood were going to be punching each other’s lights out.

“Calm yourself, Xander.” Spike insisted. “I can’t hurt the principal here and he’s not going to hurt me. He’s one of the good guys, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right,” Wood returned in a confident tone. This was going to be one nasty patrol.

Xander looked like he was going to protest more but he focused on Spike and seemed to come to a different conclusion. Maybe he just didn’t want to make Spike look weak in front of Wood. “Don’t turn your back on him,” he said, gave Spike a searing kiss and left the room.

Spike gestured to the front door. “Shall we?”

“Why not.” Spike made sure to exit the door first. It was the last time he’d turn his back on Wood this evening but, for the moment, he still had people he trusted guarding it. Spike stifled laughter at the sight the two of them must make, walking down the street absolutely even with each other with a couple feet of space separating them, as if they were afraid that brushing against each other would contaminate them.

“I want to pick up a couple weapons at home before we head out,” Wood said. Spike saw no difficulty in indulging him. The side trip would give him more time to come up with an appropriate hunting ground. He doubted a simple encounter with a couple vampires would do the job. This required something more impressive, but something that wouldn’t look so dangerous immediately that the prey would bolt. There was the ghora down in the sewers but there were far too many escape routes there. There were a few mora demons set up on the east side that had possibilities. It was too bad they’d killed that skin eating demon, the gnarl, last week, some paralyzing claws would be damn useful right now. They had been too damn effective in clearing out nests of late. It didn’t leave many trap opportunities.

“How did you end up working with the Slayer?” Spike rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was get chatty with Wood, especially on anything so personal.

“Had this chip stuck up in my head,” he replied. Maybe a partial truth would satisfy. “At first I didn’t know I could hit demons, I thought I was helpless. White hats have to help the helpless, don’t they?”

Wood didn’t seem satisfied with his grin. “I would think the only thing she would give you is the mercy of a quick staking.”

In honesty, that possibility had been pretty close in Spike’s mind at the time as well. “I’d worked with her before a couple times, and I had information on the Initiative. It was to her advantage to keep me in one piece.”

Wood seemed to digest this. Spike allowed himself to entertain the chance he might not have to arrange an accident. If he could convince the bloke there was nothing to see here he might just leave them alone. As difficult a time as he was having coming up with a likely trap it was worth a shot.

“That still doesn’t explain why you decided to start fighting on the side of the angels.”

Once again Spike thought a half truth would be more believable. Besides, he hardly wanted to reveal his hopeless crush on Buffy to this wanker. “Once I found out I could kill demons, seemed the thing to do. I could get my spot of violence on, keep myself in blood and fags, and have protection from all the demons I was hacking off in the process. Worked out well.”

Wood nodded to himself, clearly satisfied. “Thought it was probably something like that.”

They traveled along for a few minutes in silence before they came up to Wood’s house. He led Spike around back to a shed or workshop. “I keep my weapons in here,” Wood explained as he removed the padlock. He actually allowed his back to face Spike for a few moments while he unlocked the door. When he had the door open he turned to Spike and said formally, “Come in, Spike.”

Spike had been expecting to wait outside while Wood grabbed his weapons. He wasn’t comfortable playing on Wood’s turf, but declining such an invitation would look suspicious so, displaying trust he didn’t feel, he preceded Wood inside.

Chapter Five

Spike knew he was in trouble the moment Wood hit the lights. The sound of the door slamming shut behind him was just the capper. He spun around entirely too late as Wood secured the door behind him.

Crosses of every description decorated the walls of the shed. His opponent was surrounded by weapons Spike couldn’t touch. Trying to keep out of Wood’s reach and trying not to touch the walls seriously limited his ability to dodge. He was well and truly buggered.

“So, do you lure all the vampires here, or am I special?” Spike strove for nonchalant and suspected he missed by a significant margin.

“Oh you’re special, Spike.” Wood assured him, taking up a fighting stance in front of the door. “I’ve been searching for you a very long time, nearly my whole life.”

Spike backed up a few paces trying to give himself room to maneuver. “Do tell. What did I do to earn that honor?”

“You killed my mother,” Wood snarled. He pulled out a baseball bat from next to the door and began advancing on Spike.

Spike maintained his distance. “I killed a lot of people’s mothers. Afraid that doesn’t narrow it down much.” If he could incite him to charge he might be able to slip past him and break through the door.

“Oh, you’d remember my mother,” he assured smoothly. “She was a slayer.”

“That does ring a bell,” Spike goaded. “About so high, based in New York, scrappy fighter.”

“You’re wearing her coat. I want it back.” Wood took a step forward, swinging the bat in a half arc, all cold precision. The door remained fully covered. “The way I see it, you can take a lot of damage before you dust. So I get to give you back just a little of the pain you cost me, before I end you.”

Reasoning with him was definitely out. Just as well, as that wasn’t Spike’s strongest suit anyway. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and called up as much of his big bad self as he could summon. There was considerably more of it than there had been a year ago. “You think you’re a big enough man to end me? Please. Your mother was a slayer, one of the best I’ve ever seen, and she couldn’t get the job done.” Spike stroked a hand down the front of the duster. “Got the trophy to prove it.”

With a scream, Wood stepped forward and took a swing. Spike dodged beneath, got a hand on the bat and flung it away. Wood was no slouch and got a knee up in Spike’s stomach before he could dance away.

Spike pulled back a foot or two and shifted from side to side, looking for an opening. Without the ability to hit his opponent there was no way to win this fight, he had to get away. They feinted and danced around each other. The door was covered in crosses as well and securely bolted. Spike would have to get Wood seriously out of position if he had a hope of getting through without giving the man a free shot at his back.

Looking about him Spike concluded his mouth was his only real weapon. “So, you’ve wasted your whole life tracking me down. That’s sad, it really is. Spent a fair amount of time learning to fight, can see that. Did you ever shag or were you too … dedicated?”

Wood snatched a mace from the wall and swung it. Spike ducked it easily, he was getting to Wood. “Sloppy follow through. You should really work on that.”

“Oh, I have,” Wood said in far too calm a voice. He was centering himself, that would never do.

“Right, of course. Have to do Mummy proud. Except Mummy wasn’t proud, was she? Too focused on the job to pay attention to you.” Spike’s snide tone seemed to hit home.

“Shut your filthy mouth.” Wood swung again, missing by a hairsbreadth this time.

“Afraid to get a little truth on you, revenge boy?” Spike taunted. “You blame me for your mum’s death, but it wasn’t me that killed her.” A sly smile spread across Spike’s face. “Well, yeah, it was me, and damned proud of it.” Spike leaped over a swipe at his legs. “But really, if it hadn’t been me it would have been some other nasty. It was the job that killed her.” Spike couldn’t help but think of Buffy, surrounded by friends and allies and still insisting that the weight of the whole world rested on her shoulders alone. “A job she loved more than you.”

In that moment, he wasn’t sure if he was discussing Nicky Wood or Buffy Summers. Life of the chosen one, it was all the same in the end. But it was a moment of introspection he couldn’t afford. Wood’s swing at his head got a bit of his chin and damn near took his head off. He staggered back a step while Wood pressed his advantage. Spike had no space for taunts and was running out of maneuvering room.

It was becoming painfully clear he was going to dust here. He had no way of incapacitating his assailant and attacking back would leave him writhing on the floor. At least he wouldn’t have to listen to Xander say, ‘I told you so’ which was a bit of a comfort. Still, if he was going down, he wasn’t going down without a fight. Maybe if he could hit Wood hard enough with one blow he could crawl away before Wood regained consciousness, who knew what it would do to his brain if Spike succeeded in killing him but it was better than lying down and dying.

He ducked under the next swing and ploughed his fist into Wood’s chin. Wood staggered back and collapsed against the wall. Spike winced in anticipation of a massive burst of pain from the chip.

There was nothing.

He stared down at Wood, barely conscious on the floor before him, and there wasn’t the slightest twinge from the chip.

A grin of pure joy spread across his face and he whooped in triumph. He gave Wood’s leg an experimental kick, just to make sure.

No pain.

Seemed the chip’s battery had finally run out. Spike threw his head back and roared, “I’m back!” He felt like dancing a bloody jig right in the middle of the room. Then he turned to Wood, who was barely focusing but struggling to sit up, and smiled viciously. “And I owe it all to you, mate.”

Spike figured he couldn’t have done more to the guy if he’d stabbed him, and from the flinch Wood gave that judgment seemed spot on. He got right up in Wood’s face, feeling like twisting the knife a bit. “This chip could have been burned out for months and I never would have known it. So, you’ve given me my bite back.” Spike patted the side of his face. “Thanks, you’ve done me a real service, you have.”

Wood winced, clearly all the fight drained out of him. “Just finish it already,” he ground out in an exhausted voice.

Spike felt like the king of the world. He didn’t have to back down from any fight ever again. He could protect his family, be a real vampire once again. “Don’t think I will, mate.” Spike bounced back, away from his fallen opponent. “When it came right down to it, your mother didn’t choose you, she chose the job, she chose me.” Spike could see the truth of his statement hit home and it filled him with glee. “So, I’m leaving you alive, unless you’re fool enough to come after my family again.” Spike’s voice dropped to a deadly serious tone. “Come near any of them again and I’ll take days killing you. Believe me, I’ve been trained by the best at that.”

Wearily, Wood nodded.

Spike clapped his hands together, feeling like a little kid set loose in the toy store, he declared, “Right then, places to go, people to kill, you know how it is.” He left the shed whistling a happy tune.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was still whistling as he swung in the front door. The whole gang was sitting in the living room around two large pizzas. “Pass over some of that pepperoni,” he demanded.

Xander raked his eyes over Spike like he was looking for holes. “What happened, you’ve only been gone half an hour,” Xander asked suspiciously.

“It’s all sorted.” Spike’s grin was drawing suspicious glances from all of them. He reached down and snagged a piece of pepperoni pizza. Everyone else was clearly too frozen to hand it to him.

“How is it sorted?” Rupert asked pointedly.

“He’s not after the slayer, he was after me.” Spike had barely finished speaking before Xander grabbed his sleeve and began dragging him toward the basement stairs. Spike finished off his slice of pizza and called a “Don’t wait up.” over his shoulder. The expected rolled eyes made him smile wider.

Spike was pretty much bouncing by the time they made it to the bottom of the stairs, bursting with the news he had to tell. “The chip stopped working.”

Xander’s dropped jaw was not the joyful expression he’d been expecting. “What happened?”

“Git pulled me into a shed full of crosses. Seems he’s the kid of the slayer I killed in New York. Been gunning for me ever since. He won’t be doing it anymore.” If Xander wasn’t going to get into the spirit of the celebration then Spike wasn’t going to be large on the details.

Xander hung his head as if oppressed by his thoughts. “Did you kill him?”

“Nah, was too thrilled to be free, besides, I did kill his mum.” He wondered if the fact he’d had sympathy for the kid meant he was going soft.

Xander slumped against the wall. “Well, that’s something at any rate.”

Spike’s euphoria took an immediate nose dive. “Sounds like you’d rather the git killed me.”

Xander’s head snapped up, a look of horror on his face. He looked as if Spike had just gut punched him. He grabbed hold of Spike, burying his face in his neck. “No, God no, Spike. But, you have to leave and I hate that.”

Now Xander had simply gone insane. Spike pulled away, gripping Xander at arm’s length so he couldn’t do something foolish and dangerous to himself, and so Spike could get a good look at his face. “What the bloody hell are you talking about? I‘m not going anywhere.”

Xander looked miserable. “You have to, Spike,” he said as if it was all decided.

Spike felt shaking some sense into Xander so he channeled his anger into pacing. “Do you have the slightest idea what this means to me, Xander? I can defend myself again. I don’t have to worry about a couple of human thugs taking me out because I can’t hit them back. Or was it just the defanged version you cared about? No room for me now I’m not all weak and helpless anymore.”

Xander shook his head and tried to close the distance between them. Spike shook his hand off and continued pacing. Xander stopped trying to touch him, dejectedly staring at the floor as he spoke. “You’re unleashed, Spike, and part of me is happy for you. You hated the chip, I’ve actually come to hate the chip, but it meant you could stay. Now you have to go. I’ve known this day was coming for a long time. The chip was a prototype, it couldn‘t work forever. I guess I was just really selfish and hoped I‘d be dead before then.”

Spike wasn‘t sure what to make of this insanity. They’d never talked about what they would do if the chip stopped working. The subject had gotten too depressing for Spike to contemplate any longer. But Xander was talking like he had the whole thing worked out. What did he think Spike was going to do? Weren’t they were well past this by now? He thought he had a real home here. Now, just when things were finally going his way, he was being given his marching papers. “You think I can’t control myself? You think I’d hurt you? Dawn?”

Xander looked up and his eyes were brimming with unshed tears as he spoke his truth. “I think you’d stake yourself before you hurt one of us. You love us, we’re your family. The rest of Sunnydale, not so much. How long before you forget yourself and eat one of Dawn’s classmates, one of my work buddies, one of Willow and Tara’s teachers or just some random stranger? Giles has his sacred duty and Willow and Tara will agree. Once you kill someone they’ll feel they have to kill you, and having to choose like that, I hope one of you would kill me first, because I don’t think I could stay sane.”

Spike stopped pacing, facing Xander squarely across the space they had created between themselves. He couldn’t believe Xander would shatter his life like this and anger was his only shield. “Do you think I’m some fledge with grave dirt under my fingernails? I have control. I don’t have to randomly kill people if I don‘t want to.” He was shaking as he waved his dirt free fingernails under Xander’s nose. He told himself it was outrage.

Spike had to admit that feeding again had featured prominently in his list of things he missed since the chip, but feeding wasn’t worth the loss of his family. He could give it up if it meant he didn’t lose the best home he’d had in over 100 years. He didn’t like to think of it as pleading, but he couldn’t think of a more dignified explanation at the moment.

Xander, however, appeared unswayed, even as he looked like his whole world was ending. “You’re free, Spike. My love can’t be another leash. You’d resent me, maybe even hate me for it. Maybe not now, but eventually. Go, be a vampire somewhere not here. I love you too much to let you do anything else.”

This made no sense! Xander had no right to do this to him. Hadn’t he proved himself many times over? Hadn’t he nearly died defending them? Xander made him believe he was loved, and now he was ripping him to pieces. Spike refused to cry in front of the unfeeling bastard, not while the ungrateful git was kicking him out. If he was going to hold true to that he needed to get out fairly fast though. He snatched a duffle bag out of the closet and started emptying the dresser into it. He wasn’t sure that he wasn’t shoving half of Xander’s clothes in as well but he didn’t care, couldn’t care. He couldn’t remain silent though, not with Xander standing in a corner looking like he was somehow heartbroken. The heartless idiot didn’t have the right. “I’m leaving, and just to prove to you what a moronic git you are, I’m not going to kill anyone for a year, a whole year!” Spike paused and rethought that position. “Unless they deserve it. Not going to get myself staked like some bleeding martyr.”

“I wouldn’t want you to, Spike,” Xander said in a small voice. “I don’t want you to go.”

Spike stabbed a finger at him. “You don’t get to say that. Not and kick me out in the same breath. I’m just going to prove to you how very wrong you are.”

Xander nodded as if he accepted the chastisement as his due and went back to staring at his shoes. “Do you need any money?”

“No,” Spike replied succinctly. No need to mention the fact that he could get all the dosh he needed now that he didn’t have to fear humans anymore. That would just start them fighting again. There was no purpose in that.

Xander looked like he didn’t really need the explanation anyway, staring off to the side nodding absently to himself. “You should say goodbye to Dawn before you go.”

Xander has some gall asking him to do a thing like that. Spike slipped into his vampiric face without his conscious volition. “I’ll just leave that little chore to you, shall I? You explain to her where I’ve gone and why. Don’t leave that out.”

Once again Xander took the drubbing as his due. It was putting Spike right off, he needed out that minute. He shoved the last of his possessions into the duffle and zipped it. That seemed to unlock Xander’s jaw. “I know I’ve got no right to ask.”

“You’ve got that right,” Spike growled back, pain choking his throat.

Xander continued, undaunted. “We both have gmail accounts, wherever you go, email me, let me know you’re all right?”

“What do you care about one more vampire out there,” he snapped, intending to hurt. He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the stairs. Xander didn’t move but he seemed to be collapsing in on himself as Spike got closer to the door. At the top of the stairs he relented. He didn’t turn but he made sure his voice could be heard. “Tell Dawn I’ll email her as soon as I get settled. Wouldn’t want her to worry.” Some of the oppressive atmosphere of the room lifted at that.

He left by the back door, grateful not to run into anyone else.

 

Chapter Six

Spike spent the first night getting as far away as fast as he could. He stole a great American land yacht and started driving He had no destination in mind and ended up kipping in the boot just before sunrise. The tears he wouldn’t let Xander see clouded his eyes until he managed to fall asleep for a few hours.

He awoke before nightfall and spent the time trying to come up with some place to go. He would receive no warm welcome from Angel so LA was out, no telling where Dru had gotten herself off to, and the speculation ended there. Over 120 years walking the Earth and everyone who might give a damn about him had either turned their back on him or was irretrievably dead.

Xander wanted him to “go be a vampire” like he could just pick up where he left off when the Initiative grabbed him. He hadn’t been a true vampire in three long years, longer probably. The more he thought of it, the more he ran through all of Angelus and Darla’s pronouncements that he wasn’t a proper vampire at all. Maybe they had been right all along.

Still, moping wasn’t his style, and this wasn’t the first time he’d been on his own. Time to go out and find a town to paint red. At sunset he’d head east.

__________________________________________________________________

The next night he ditched the car for a sportier model, something worthy of a real road trip. He also realized where he was headed. New York City seemed the only fitting destination. Besides, he’d loved it there a few decades ago. It was just the sort of place for him to get his head back together after having it messed with for so long.

He was in no particular hurry to get there and took a meandering path through middle America. He went so far as to obtain animal blood in his first couple of stops, just to spite Xander bloody minded Harris. Before he was halfway to New York he’d decided that was going way too far. He could feed without killing. It took longer and was a bit riskier, but risk was the way he liked to play things anyway.

He was in Kansas when he took a corn fed, farmer’s daughter behind a bar. He hadn’t lost his touch in chatting up the birds and he had her convinced she was swooning with sexual satiation rather than blood loss easily enough. He sent her back inside and was on his way before anyone could comment on how pale she looked. He made a couple more stops before finding a motel to kip at for the day. His last meal lost more than a quart of blood as Spike relieved him of the laptop he had in his backpack.

Holed up for the day, a “Do not disturb” sign warding off the maid, Spike marveled at the fact that even out of the way, cheap motels had free wi-fi. Lifting the laptop had been a spur of the moment thing, just something to pass the time and make life easier, like the dosh he’d lifted off another bloke. He was checking to see if the twit had his bank account bookmarked. No such luck, perhaps he wasn’t as stupid as he looked, when the email icon seemed to be looming large on the screen. Spike puttered around, doing a bit of surfing, filling his newly acquired ipod with road trip music, but he’d never been good at self deception. Eventually he broke and logged onto his email account.

There were multiple unread messages waiting for him. Two from Dawn, one from Willow, even one from Rupert. There were seven from Xander.

He closed out without opening any of them. He went to sleep trying not to imagine what could be in those messages.

Two hours of tossing and turning later he fired up the laptop and pulled up the emails. He compromised with himself by reading Dawn’s messages first.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: watchergirl@gmail.com  
Sent: November 7, 2002 5:36:18 PM  
Subject: Stupid vampire

How could you just leave without even saying goodbye? I thought you loved me! I don’t care how mad you were at Xander, who was being a big, fat idiot, you didn’t have to leave without talking to me. I don’t care that the chip isn’t working anymore. I’m glad it isn’t, because now you won’t get hurt anymore. I don’t care what Xander says, nothing could be worse than having you gone.

Why does everyone leave me?

The last line pretty well broke Spike’s heart. He almost responded but thought he should look at the second message first.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: watchergirl@gmail.com  
Sent: November 9, 2002 3:50:54 PM  
Subject: Where are you?

I guess Xander was right. You’re probably off somewhere having a good time now that your “shock collar” is gone.

Maybe you don’t care that there are people back here who love you, maybe you’re not even reading this email. I wouldn’t have believed it but it’s been three days and we haven’t heard from you. You told Xander you would email me and you haven’t. Don’t you know we’re worried about you?

Call, or email or something. Maybe if you do Xander won’t look so sick anymore.

Didn’t like the sound of that at all. It gave him a pretty good idea of what he would find in the other emails as well. He still didn’t feel up to reading Xander’s messages so he opened Willow’s.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: witchywoman@gmail.com  
Sent: November 9, 2002 5:23:43 PM  
Subject: You’re in big trouble, mister!

I’ve got a shovel with your name on it. I told you not to hurt him and here you are, ripping him to pieces.

I know he told you to leave, and you’re probably feeling pretty crappy right now, but not knowing if you’re still walking around or not is ripping Xander apart. We’re your family, can’t you stop sulking long enough to let us know you’re all right?

Willow

Spike doubted the watcher was going to be so charitable in his missive. By the sound of it, things were a right mess back home. Time to let Rupert have his say.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: r.giles@gmail.com  
Sent: November 9, 2002 10:23:53 AM  
Subject: no message

Although I shouldn’t expect better of you, I would think you could stop reveling in your newfound freedom long enough to contact Dawn or Xander. Heaven knows why but they are beside themselves with worry over your sorry hide. Congratulations, you may have succeeded in destroying us with their love for you more thoroughly than you ever could have through more conventional means.

Giles

Spike felt his stomach turn over. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. Yes, he was mad at Xander but he didn’t want him hurting. Time to face the music.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: donutboy@gmailcom  
Sent: November 7, 2002 11:32:13 AM  
Subject: no message

I told Dawn. She hates me now. Don’t wait too long to contact her okay.

Xander

He immediately went to the next one.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: donutboy@gmail.com  
Sent: November 7, 2001 7:43:31 PM  
Subject: The ball’s in your court

Didn’t strike fast enough. She’s still not too pleased with me but now she hates you too. Don’t worry too much about it. Send her something nice from wherever you are and I’m sure you’ll be forgiven.

Xander

Sometimes Spike forgot just how generous Xander was. He found himself mulling over what he could get Dawn to smooth things over. Nothing here, but once he got to New York it would be easy to pick up a trinket she would love.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: donutboy@gmail.com  
Sent: November 8, 2002 11:42:44 AM  
Subject: Enough’s enough

Spike, I know you’re still ticked at me but that’s no reason to take it out on Dawn. Make contact already.

Xander

Spike really didn’t want to open up the next one but there wasn’t much choice.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: donutboy@gmail.com  
Sent: November 8, 2002 7:51:36 PM  
Subject: Stop sulking!

It’s been two days! Respond already!

Spike didn’t feel quite so bad after reading that one. After two days he was supposed to just forget about having his heart shredded? Did Xander expect him to be sitting in some poncy Internet café somewhere just waiting for their emails? He had to put his life back together. He opened the next one in a much angrier frame of mind.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: donutboy@gmail.com  
Sent: November 9, 2002 2:25:12 AM  
Subject: I miss you

Okay, I was out of line with the last email. I’m kind of crabby right now. It’s just, every time I close my eyes I see something terrible happening to you. So, you might notice I’m not getting much sleep.

I know I have no right to ask, just, let me know you’re all right. Please.

Xander

That doused every bit of anger he’d managed to build up from the last message. He went to the next email.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: donutboy@gmail.com  
Sent: November 9, 2002 11:56:43 AM  
Subject: Guess I have my answer

Guess you’re too mad to respond. I don’t know what to say to make this right. Maybe nothing can.

Xander

Xander always expected people to walk away from him. Was his short term memory suffering? Spike hadn’t left, he’d been tossed out. Could none of them even comprehend that he might not be near a computer for a few days? He opened the last one.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: donutboy@gmail.com  
Sent: November 9, 2002 11:51:31 PM  
Subject: I’m really sorry

I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I guess I should have said that first thing, huh? I still believe everything I said three nights ago but hurting you was never my goal.

This is still your family. If you wanted to hurt us, your silence is a pretty effective punishment. You’re about to drive me to drastic measures. I’m going to see if Willow can’t find some way to magically locate you. I have to know you’re all right.

Xander

If Xander was turning to magic things were completely out of hand. Time to put a stop to all of this with a little message of his own. And fast. It was already ten in the morning, he expected Xander would fire off another round on his lunch break he was almost afraid of how maudlin that could get.

To: watchergirl@gmail.com, witchywoman@gmail.com, r.giles@gmail.com, donutboy@gmail.com  
From: deadsexy@gmail.com  
Sent: November 10, 2002 10:03:05 AM  
Subject: Calm down

I’ve been traveling the last three days and only got my hands on a laptop last night. Stop being so bloody impatient. It’s not like I left with a plan or anything. I was shoved out the door without so much as a by your leave.

I’m not settled anywhere yet and I’m not likely to be for a bit more. If two days go by without my checking in I’m probably just driving through the day or some such. Don’t carry on so.

By the way, I haven’t killed a single person yet. So much for all your fine theories. I’m going to have you eating your words.

I will be in touch.

Spike

Spike wondered if that was enough, wondered if he had the strength to email Xander something more personal. Eventually, he decided he had no choice.

To: donutboy@gmail.com  
From: deadsexy@gmail.com  
Sent: November 10, 2002 11:05:37 AM  
Subject: Still here

So, here we are. I’m still not dusty so you can stand down from whatever foolishness you were going to try. I don’t know where I’m going and I’m likely to move around quite a bit. If experience is a teacher I could end up in some very remote regions. There may be times it will be a week or more before I can get to a computer.

I won’t stop contacting you, all right. I promise, for whatever that’s worth to you. Judging by our last talk, it’s not much. I’m going to prove you wrong and I’m going to come home. Just try not to get yourself killed in the meantime.

Spike

Spike surveyed that response with some satisfaction and went to bed, feeling better than he had since leaving home

Chapter Seven

Spike woke up a couple hours before sunset. Smirking, he fired up the laptop. He’d need to get a power cable if they expected him to check in on a daily basis. Dawn had responded to his email with indignity and guilt trips. Much better than the lost tone of her previous message.

Xander’s response was two lines. “Thank you. You’ve always kept your promises to me.”

Somehow, the fact that Xander did still have faith in him made the separation easier to bear. Now that the pain wasn’t quite so fresh and sharp he allowed himself to think about that last conversation with Xander in the basement. His mind only half on his task, he packed up and checked out over the telly. Brilliant innovation that, made it much easier to duck out unobserved. He hadn’t bothered to black out the windows in his current ride so he was restricted to driving at night.

On the road again he mulled the situation over as Kansas’ harvested fields gave way to Missouri’s equally boring woods. It was late enough in the year that he had the car’s heater cranked all the way up. Too many years spent in perennially warm climates, he wasn’t used to this anymore. Not the cold, and not the solitude.

So what did he do with Xander’s insistence that he leave? Until now he’d been focused on Xander’s apparent belief that Spike couldn’t stop himself snacking on the local population. As if Spike were some newly risen fledge with no control. Xander’s lack of trust had rankled particularly hard as he had nailed Spike over a similar issue months ago.

But further contemplation, digging past the hurt, showed that wasn’t what Xander had said. No, Xander seemed more concerned about making Spike choose between his vampiric nature and Xander. Stupid boy. Hadn’t he already made his choice in such matters perfectly clear? But when he thought back past his own grief to Xander’s face and voice he realized just how much fear was motivating Xander. Not fear for himself or the family, he’d been clear about that, but fear that Spike would slip up and he’d be caught between duty and love, ripped apart in ways that could never be mended.

So he was facing Xander’s insecurities again. This was familiar ground since he was hardly a stranger to insecurity himself. He’d just have to show Xander that his fears were unfounded. It might not even take a year before Xander was begging him to come home and forgive him. And, being the magnanimous sort he was, Spike would forgive him.

In the mean time, nothing said he couldn’t have some fun. Visit some of his old haunts. See if anyone remembered him from his glory days. He’d been king of the New York courts after killing the Slayer. Everyone wanted to be his friend, buy him drinks, hear the story. It had been a glorious battle. Robin seemed to have inherited some of her spark. He was a formidable fighter and Spike had humiliated him, brought him to his knees.

A thread of worry sang through him. He’d counted on being around to keep Wood from getting out of line. Now they were undefended and Wood might consider taking his revenge against Xander.

He fished his cell phone out. It had been off since he left Sunnydale, and he was sure he had a dozen messages but had no time to deal with them now. He dialed up Xander’s number.

It took four agonizing rings before there was the click of someone picking up. “Hello.” Spike easily recognized Xander’s barely awake voice. A quick glance at the clock told him it was three in the morning. He shrugged, with the time difference Xander would be getting up in less than an hour anyway.

“Xander, has that Wood git been sniffing around?” Spike didn’t see any reason to waste time on idle pleasantries.

“Spike!” Spike could almost see Xander snap awake. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, it’s me, I want to know if Wood has been messing with any of you in my absence. He had a bone to pick and he might try to take it out on you.”

“So you call me at … 5am … to talk about it?” Xander rambled.

Spike wondered if he’d ever be able to get the man back on topic. “It’s when I thought of it, all right. Anyway, you’ll be getting up soon anyway.”

“Hey, I treasure those last thirty minutes of sleep,” Xander protested.

“Not the point,” Spike growled, determined to get his answer. “About Wood--”

“It’s been four days and it’s only occurring to you now?” Spike didn’t like the accusation in Xander’s voice.

“Xander.” He wished he was closer to use some of his newfound ability to hurt humans to slap Xander upside the head.

“Yes, yes, Wood, I got it,” Xander conceded. “We’re fine, he’s backed way off.”

That puzzled Spike a bit. Lifelong vendetta like that, Spike had expected to have to scare him off a couple more times, maybe even kill him. “He gave up a lot easier than I’d thought he would.”

“Yeah, guess the revenge business isn’t what it used to be,” Xander agreed. Spike recognized that tone of voice. It was the one Xander used when he wasn’t telling the whole truth

“So what happened?” Spike was in no mood to play twenty questions. If Wood was causing problems for them he’d turn back around and Xander’s insecurities could just go hang.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine,” Xander insisted in a voice that was definitely hiding something. Xander couldn’t lie worth a damn to anyone who knew him well.

“What did you do?” Spike hoped his voice conveyed that he wasn’t going to put up with any more prevaricating. It was hard to be threatening from hundreds of miles away but he gave it a shot anyway.

“I talked to him, all right. He won’t be any trouble,” Xander placated.

A smile spread across Spike’s face. Sounded like Xander had learned the fine art of intimidation. The thought warmed him and he wanted the whole story. “What did you say to the berk?”

“Just that you weren’t the only person willing to take someone out to protect the people you love. It was a pretty short conversation.” Xander paused as if he was somehow ashamed of himself. “I was pretty pissed He’d tried to kill you, after all. Not to mention he was basically responsible for you being gone.”

Spike would argue that Xander was the reason Spike was gone, but he didn’t want to start that argument up again. “Why Xander, I didn’t know you had it in you,” he said, concentrating on how pleased the idea of Xander putting the fear of his wrath into Wood made him.

“I just didn’t want him going after you, so, I kind of explained to him that none of us were people you wanted to mess with, especially if you were fond of waking up the same species you went to bed as.” Spike imagined Xander using just those exact words too. There was a note of bashful pride in Xander’s voice.

“How did Will react to you using her to threaten him?” Spike couldn’t resist coaxing just a bit more out of him.

“She suggested it. Spike, you have to know none of us have changed how we feel about you.” There was a pleading note to this, as if Xander feared he wouldn’t be believed. Spike decided he didn’t like it.

“I miss you all as well,” he said, hoping that was all the confirmation Xander required, no need to get too mushy. “Listen, I’m still on the road but I’ll do the email thing a bit more frequently. Try not to worry you.” Realizing he was getting perilously close to an overabundance of sentimentality, he was just about to say goodbye when Xander broke in.

“It’s really good to hear your voice, Spike.”

“Same,” Spike allowed. He heard Xander’s alarm go off. “Of to work with you now.” He hung up before he could say anything else that would permanently damage his image.

Spike caught the next road sign and decided that he was in no real hurry to make it to New York, and St Louis was less than 50 miles down the highway. It would be a fun town to stay in for a day or two. They had all manner of spooky locales that would be prime hunting grounds. The idiot tourists would probably think he was part of the show.

_____________________________________________________________

He stayed a few days in St. Louis, it was a very vampire friendly town. He was even able to find a place to buy some human blood for when he hit the road again. So he hit the local night life, did a bit of non-lethal snacking on the locals, and emailed the folks back home.

Dawn had taken to writing chatty emails about what was happening at school, how life was unfair and boys she thought were cute. Spike had to wonder if she included the last topic in an attempt to get him to come charging back home. If so, she was on the right track.

Willow was invaluable as his barometer to how Xander was really doing. From the sound of things, there had been a marked improvement since the phone call. Willow was the one who kept him certain that Xander still wanted him, he just insisted on playing the martyr.

Xander kept his emails short, mostly written on his lunch hour. He spoke about trivial daily things and Spike could read between the lines that there was a concerted effort to keep him from feeling guilty. Xander never asked where he was or what he was doing. Spike wasn’t sure if that was an attempt to show trust or a suspicion that Spike wasn’t walking the straight and narrow and Xander didn‘t want to know about it.

Rupert only emailed once or twice but he kept him apprised of the situation on the Hellmouth. Spike was grateful that they had done those excruciating upgrades on the bot. Willow was an exceptionally powerful witch and Tara was no slouch, but not everything could be solved by magic. Without a slayer or master vampire holding the line, things could get out of hand. The Watcher assured him all was quiet at the moment. There had been a couple of challenges but they had been repelled and there was nothing ominous on the horizon. Still, Rupert shared Spike’s fears about the long term stability of a Hellmouth without a proper guardian. There were even hints that he would feel better if Spike were there. Not in so many words of course, but the concern was there. Spike had to wonder if he was reconsidering letting the Council deal with Faith.

The upshot of all of the communication was that no one was happy with the situation as it stood. Spike made it clear that he’d just as soon come home and forget all this nonsense, but Xander refused to entertain the idea, and everyone but Dawn was backing him up. Eventually he decided that, as usual, it fell to him to make them all see sense. So he threw everything into his appropriated sports car and set out on the road as soon as the sun sank below the horizon.

There was only one course of action he could think of that might shorten his exile. He’d establish himself in New York, he knew the lay of the land there, how to fit between the cracks. With a population that size, nightly feedings wouldn’t put a bull’s eye on him, even without Sunnydale blindness. He’d set up in an apartment, something nice and posh. Then he’d invite them all out for a short vacation. He’d show them the town, do the whole tourist thing. Not a bad idea in and of itself, they could all use a bit of downtime. They’d see how well he was doing and they’d remember how much they missed having him around. He’d be headed back with them when they left. A couple months should be more than sufficient time to get himself set up and he could issue the invitation to match up with the Christmas holidays. Might even do New Year’s Eve in Times Square, then off back home.

As the evening wore on traffic thinned out and he could feel the smooth glide of the road as he raced down the I70, feeling more optimistic than he had since this enforced road trip began. He knew he wasn’t the best at strategizing, but this plan had success written all over it. Nothing could be easier

He was forced to stop somewhere around Harrisburg and chortled a bit at the irony. He didn’t even bother getting a room, just found a convenient parking garage. After relieving the attendant, who had interrupted his nap, of a couple pints, he wandered for a bit, too restless to sit still anymore. He found himself an Internet café and caught up on his daily emails, relieved when nothing traumatic had happened since he last checked in. He did a news search, just in case, but no mysterious crisis loomed in Southern California that the conventional news was aware of. After that, he started looking into accommodations in New York. Since he planned to stay awhile, the various credit cards he’s appropriated in his travels wouldn’t do, so he pulled out his own seldom used card. He’d listed Angel’s hotel as the billing address just to tweak the old bastard. He wished he could see Angel’s face when he got the bill.

By then, it was getting sufficiently close to sunset that he headed back to his car, hauled the bound and gagged attendant out of the trunk, sat him next to a minivan and gave his cheek a friendly pat before heading out again.

The previous night’s optimism hadn’t left him, but he recognized that he had work ahead of him. There were people he needed to contact, arrangements to be made. New York was a lot pricier than it was the last time he was there, he’d need a healthy influx of cash if he wanted to set himself up in impressive digs. Enforcer jobs brought in some nice dosh, but he didn’t fancy working for someone else as hired muscle. Setting himself up as the big fish was doable, but it would take too much time. No, he’d need to make a big score fast. In the old days, he’d have found some rich bloke whose home would suit, kill him and take it for himself. With his current restrictions he’d have to get more creative.

He had been so lost in his musings that a glance at the horizon convinced him he’d taken a wrong turn somehow. He caught the next road sign and it indicated he was where he thought he was. It took a few more miles to hit him that he was missing seeing the Twin Towers. The last time he’d driven this way they were already rising like obelisks against the night sky even this far out. This early in the evening they would have been lit up and easily visible.

Reassured that he hadn’t taken a wrong turn, he went back to musing over his plans, nebulous as they were. But something would turn up. He was past due a break.

He parked the car across the street from the Roosevelt in a tow away zone. Everything he wanted safely tucked in his duffle, not like the car would be here later. Besides, a car was more of a liability in New York than an asset.

The bird at the check in desk didn’t bat an eyelash as she confirmed his reservation and handed him his key. His special request for a west facing king suite had been fulfilled without comment. Spike was instantly reminded just how much he loved this town.

He dumped his bag in the room and headed back out. The night was still young and he didn’t have time to waste.

Chapter Eight

Spike watched the deal go down from a safe distance. Neither man aware of his presence, too focused on the money and drugs they were exchanging. It was incredibly boring but the chip had taught him patience if nothing else. A good thing too, finding a dealer had proved much more difficult than he expected. Time was that, if you knew what you were looking for, you could spot them on any street corner. The city had been sanitized since his last foray in the Big Apple. Times Square used to be prime hunting territory. Now it was a bloody Disney park. Still, the seamier parts of life would always be present and it had just been a matter of time to track down what he was looking for.

His sale completed, the dealer moved on again. After a profitable night he looked to be heading home, Spike might just relieve him of his cash and a couple pints of blood and start over tomorrow. He wanted the head of this particular organization, not this bait fish.

Turned out luck was with him. From the nervousness pouring off the kid he was headed to turn his money in to his boss. He trailed the dealer to a warehouse, He amused himself, thinking of how Xander accused vampires of being obsessed with such places. He never fully appreciated how convenient warehouses were, nice and public and needing no invitation for the undead. Perfect. He’d promised Xander he wouldn’t start killing again, but they agreed he could defend himself. If he provoked the fight that he defended himself during, well. Besides, killing these blokes was hardly the blood of the innocent on his hands.

He got himself a good view of the proceeding before he made his move. He wanted to know how many he was facing and where before the killing started. He ignored the petty posturing going on below while he searched the rafters for hidden snipers. Not that they could do much to him, but they were annoying and a head shot would be seriously inconvenient. The situation appeared to be a simple drop. The dealer Spike had followed traded most of the cash he’d taken for more drugs to sell. Seemed all he had to deal with was one middle manager type and two hired muscle.

Spike debated whether this was the end of the line for the evening or whether he’d follow these goons higher up the food chain. He bet Middle management down there holed up in a fairly nice place, with plenty of cash just lying about for an enterprising vampire such as himself. He might do for Spike’s purposes. On the other had, he’d have to deal with the big man sooner or later when he came looking for his money.

The night wasn’t getting any younger and pike was tired of traipsing all over town after these twits. He wasn’t some vice cop on stake out here. He’d deal with the big fish in his own time, his own way, for now he was acquiring himself some fancy new digs. Spike had deliberated long enough that the dealer had made tracks. Pity, his larder was bare, never hurt to take home a doggie bag .

From the rafters he watched Middle management packing his money away in a briefcase while the muscle covered the door. Any protection detail worth it’s salt would cast a glance toward the rafters now and then, but not this low rent operation. He dropped down in front of the two hired muscle just to rub their lack of foresight in. Subtlety was not his goal and the sharp, heavy sound of his Docs hitting the concrete floor snapped all attention to him instantly. The hired muscle was startled and looked to their boss for orders, unsure he represented a threat. Seriously, if this was the kind of protection this guy rated Spike could own this operation in a week. “Evening gents,” he said agreeably enough. “Have a business proposition for you.”

Middle management didn’t wait to hear more, he gave a nod and the goon squad moved in to pummel him. Both of them were well over six feet and built to intimidate. Just watching them lumber over made it clear they were accustomed to their size and strength carrying them through, grace and style were significantly lacking. Spike ducked a clumsy swing without even thinking about it, bringing his right fist up under the swing to connect with goon one’s chin and sent him sprawling. Goon two ogled his buddy on the floor instead of positioning himself to take advantage of Spike’s distraction. A casual twist of the wrist and Goon two’s neck snapped like a matchstick. The short, annoying sprint to overtake middle management before he rabbited out the back proved the most effort of the whole process.

“Now, now, no leaving the party early,” he insisted, pulling the squirming man against his chest. “I have questions for you.” He glanced over his shoulder where Goon one was picking himself off the floor. “First, I’m feeling a mite peckish.”

He twisted Middle management’s arm up behind his back where he could control him one handed and brought him stumbling over to Goon one, just as he succeeded in making it to his knees. This put Goon one at a nicely convenient height for Spike who twisted his head to the side and buried his fangs into the side of his neck. Middle management writhed in his grip, Spike felt the shudders ripple through him as he was pressed tight against his side. He stank of fear and sweat scant inches from Goon one whose struggles had grown weak almost immediately. Spike hadn’t exactly been delicate when ripping into his neck and the goon’s lifeblood gushed into his mouth and down his chin. Goon one was the best meal he’d had in years and he didn’t feel like rushing it so he twisted Middle management’s arm viciously to get him to hold still and stop distracting him.

When the last feeble pulses of blood slid down Spike’s throat he dropped the empty husk and turned back to his only remaining victim, he knew he was about to get anything he wanted out of him.

“Right, first things first, where do you live?” Spike asked while positioning his prey where he had a clear view of his face.

His prey blinked up at him, tears and snot streaming from him, with uncomprehending eyes. Spike applied a tiny bit more pressure and the mouse started singing. “Mid-town,” he gasped.

“Nice apartment, good view?” Spike asked, his blood stained face a scant few inches from the prey’s.

He nodded like a bobble-head.

“Have a wife, kiddies?” Spike asked in an amiable tone.

“No, no sir,” the prey babbled.

“Now see, if you had listened to my business proposition I would have told you how you could have made it through this little encounter alive.” Spike went fishing through the prey’s pockets until he came up with a wallet. He pulled out the driver’s license and took a look at the address. It would probably do. “As it is, you’ve only got one use I can think of.”

Without further preamble, he drained the twitching mouse. It was time to go check out his new home.

_______________________________________________________________________

The apartment turned out to be perfect. It was a three bedroom, which Spike considered ideal, and was already outfitted with blackout curtains. Spike checked out of his hotel and moved into the apartment before the sun came up. He dumped the body of Steven Stiles, or so his driver’s license claimed, in a spare bedroom and availed himself of the king bed for a well deserved nap.

Steven was a sluggish riser, and didn’t appear to be a very promising vampire. Since all Spike required was that he be sufficiently cowed by his sire to show him where all the cash was hidden, the combination to the safe and other such matters it didn’t matter much. Steven fairly bounced with eagerness to show Spike how well connected and badass he was. For his part, Spike remained unconvinced, but it got him the information he needed. Once certain he had all the information he needed, Spike staked the fledge and settled into his new home. Spike loved getting rid of bodies this way, no better way to cover your tracks.

Over the next two weeks people came to his door wanting the money he’d snagged back. They were very persistent. It was better than ordering take out.

Eventually, he got tired of having his sleep disrupted, besides, the neighbors might start getting nosy. Not to mention, as convenient as the happy meals delivering themselves to his door was, disposing of the trash was a right pain. So he kept one of the next batch alive, and encouraged him to lead him back to the big man.

As it happened, his goons weren’t any better than the first ones he’d come across. So, after a hearty meal, he looked the place over. A quick once over decided him, too gaudy for his purposes. A quick grab of any loose cash left lying about and he headed back to his apartment and guaranteed peace and quiet.

He considered telling Xander about his bit of urban renewal. He couldn’t see him objecting all that much. As he recalled it, Angel had come crawling back to them, trying to get into Darla’s good graces. He’d fed on murderers and other rough customers, and that was after he got a soul shoved in him. So eating bad guys must be some kind of loophole no one had bothered to mention to him. He was sticking to his promise, no innocent blood was on his hands, but there was no sense clouding the issue when he was so close to being ready to make his move. Hell, he’d been performing a public service.

He wanted to wait another week before he sent his invitation for them to spend the holidays with him. He wanted to make absolutely sure no more men with guns would be coming to the door before he risked the family.

In the meantime, he was renewing old acquaintances, revisiting old haunts. It was good to see CBGB still in operation even though it had toned down from when he’d last been there. He fought enough to made sure no one wanted to mess with him, but not so much as to be a challenge to one of the courts. He didn’t need or want politics.

Spike kept checking the news coming out of California, just in case. He didn’t trust the Scoobies to inform him of potential problems, so when he heard about the darkness enveloping LA he congratulated himself on his foresight. As usual, the local news agencies hadn’t a clue. The only important information they provided was that the phenomenon affected only the LA area. For all the unpleasantness of their last several encounters, Spike found himself worried about Angel.

One Google search later he called the number for Angel Investigations. “Angel Investigations, Wesley speaking.” The watcher sounded hurried and nervous. Not a good sign.

“Hello Percy, care to tell me what the hell is going on over there?” Spike couldn’t resist tweaking the watcher just a bit.

Wesley’s voice turned annoyed, better than nervous, and Spike suspected that in seconds he’d be listening to a dial tone. “Who is this?”

“Spike. Just let me talk to Angel for a second.” Spike switched to as placating a tone as he could manage. He needed information out of them, after all.

The annoyance level rose several notches. “We are quite busy just now, and have no time for your games, Spike.” A dial tone rang in his ear.

Failing to get answers out of the crew at ground zero, he called up his next best source of information.

“Hello.”

“Rupert, what the hell is going on in LA?” Spike demanded.

“Ah yes, I thought you might be calling.” Rupert knew him at least that well, which mollified Spike somewhat. “I take it you’ve already contacted Angel’s people.”

“Wouldn’t give me the time of day,” he said with venom.

“Yes, well I didn’t have much better luck,” Rupert confessed. “They believe that since we don‘t have a slayer to lend to the cause we are irrelevant.”

“Angel told you that?” Spike asked, sure the shock was evident in his voice. He didn‘t think Peaches had that much gall.

“It wasn’t phrased in those exact words, but the meaning was clear. Also, I wasn‘t put through to Angel,” Rupert said and the bitterness came through loud and clear.

“Join the club,” Spike said by way of consolation.

“I, well, I did suggest that they contact you.” Rupert sounded reluctant to make such an admission. “They declined.”

“Well, that explains the playing games comment Junior Watcher Boy handed me.”

Rupert sounded amused at the appellation and Spike relished making him feel better. The uptight bastards had no business discounting the help the Sunnydale crew offered. Probably just felt threatened.

“Possibly it’s for the best that you aren’t going. Xander was extremely concerned you might feel obliged to go.”

Just when things were feeling familiar and friendly, Rupert had to bring up Xander’s lack of trust. “I’m not going to go snacking on the cheerleader! You can tell him --”

“Spike, do shut up!” Rupert snapped. “Xander was much more concerned about Angel’s propensity for killing members of his vampiric family. He fears that Angel will, and I quote, “get stake happy” with you. After Darla and Penn I must say it’s a valid concern.”

Spike chuckled. Xander still had his back, even if it didn’t need covering. “Tell him not to worry, Rupert. Angel would never have killed Darla if she hadn’t made it a choice between her and Buffy. As for Penn, well, let’s just say he was a better student under Angelus than I was. I would have to be about to kill one of his humans for him to get “stake happy” with me. He has too much guilt over me and Dru.”

“Still, I’m just as glad you’re not going.” Spike could swear he heard relief lacing Rupert’s voice. “I have no doubt that Xander would insist on being there to watch out for you and it doesn’t sound like a situation I would recommend.”

Spike wasn’t too keen on Xander being in the danger zone himself, which brought him back around to his original question. “What situation is that, exactly?”

“Oh.” Rupert sounded positively startled. “Yes, we did get rather sidetracked. It seems there was a creature named the Beast, not Glorificus, I checked, who has begun the blotting out of the sun. At the moment, it is only affecting Los Angeles, but after further questioning I was told it is supposed to blanket the Earth.”

“Right,” Spike declared. “That tears it, I’m coming home.”

“To be perfectly honest with you, Spike, if the area of darkness expands significantly I would be very grateful for your presence,” Rupert said, completely earnest. “I can only imagine how eternal night would affect the Hellmouth, but I can’t imagine it would be good. Keep your cell on. If it starts moving I’ll wire you an airline ticket myself. Angel’s people seemed to think they had a means of combating this Beast. I say we let them flounder for a day or two and they might not be quite so adverse to our help.”

Spike had to smile. He liked the way Rupert thought. “I won’t wait very long. That eternal night thing is bound to attract every vampire in the state.”

“Yes,” Rupert agreed. “Patrol has been very dull the last two nights. It seems the energy of the Hellmouth can’t compete with 24 hour mobility.”

“Any vampire who hasn’t figured out how to move about during daylight doesn’t deserve to survive,” Spike asserted, pleased to have their old dynamic back.

“Just so,” Rupert said dryly.

Spike knew he was risking the conversation devolving again, but he had to know the answer to one, very important, question. “You really believe I’m out here bathing in the blood of the innocent, don’t you?”

Rupert cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the subject change. “Given how long you had the chip restraining you, and your previous history, it would be very remarkable if you were not.”

Spike wanted to give a sharp retort, but felt too empty for one. He could feed on pig’s blood from now until the end of time. The watcher in Rupert wouldn’t believe him. “I see.”

“However,” Rupert continued, his voice gaining strength. “I have long realized that you are a singularly remarkable vampire. If you tell me you have not been doing so, I will believe you.”

Spike swallowed hard before he could speak. “I haven’t killed a single innocent person.”

“Then I believe you,” Rupert said with conviction.

Spike told himself he wasn’t going to get choked up like some poncy git over something so simple as being believed. That belief, on the other hand, did push him into full disclosure. “I have eaten the better part of a minor drug trafficking ring here.”

Rupert had the nerve to chuckle at him. “I sincerely doubt I’ll be losing any sleep over that. But is that wise? Such people are tenacious and dangerous.”

Spike waved away the concern. “Small operation. I’ve already eaten the big man.”

“I must say, it is a rather satisfying solution,” Rupert confided. “But I think I will refrain from telling Xander. He’d only worry needlessly.”

“It was something Angel did, when he was first cursed. He’d eat murderers and such. Figured if he could do that with the soul, it wasn’t out of line for me.” Spike didn’t like the questioning note that had slipped into his voice but couldn’t seem to make it go away either.

“You’ll get no argument from me, Spike.” Spike was reminded that Rupert was ever the practical man. And Rupert genuinely cared for him. Spike wasn’t sure he’d ever truly known that before. “Just be careful.”

There was a quiet pause in the conversation, and Spike thought it was probably time to end the call before he started acting like a nancy boy. But it seemed a propitious time to make his invitation. “I’ve got a nice apartment here in New York, plenty of room if all of you would like to come here for the holidays.” Spike tried for nonchalant and feared he came out tentative.

There was a brief pause and Spike feared the response. “I hesitate to give you an answer before we know what is going to happen with this Beast situation.”

“Well, of course,” Spike snapped back as if the Watcher had made an idiotic comment. “Can’t celebrate Christmas in the middle of an apocalypse, besides, I’d already be there, hardly any point in all of us trooping back to New York.”

“As you say,” Rupert said and Spike would lay good money he was smiling. “I’ll keep you apprised of the situation.”

“See that you do,” Spike said, feeling stronger. “And give my love to the others.”

“I will,. Goodbye, Spike.”

“Night, Rupert.”

Spike hung up, then just sat, contemplating the strange conversation for a moment. He flipped through the news channels and fired up the laptop to check the web. He wanted to find out as much as possible about this situation in Los Angeles.

Chapter 9

Rupert called or emailed with daily updates, all brief messages with a dearth of new information. The darkness did not, in fact, spread. However, days passed and it remained, while team Angel insisted they could handle matters on their own.

Xander kept his messages low key. Spike sensed the underlying worry, especially since Xander made him promise multiple times to tell him if he planned on taking a trip to Los Angeles. Spike suspected if he made such a trip Xander would be meeting him at the airport, which was endearing if somewhat irritating. He chose to chuckle at the concern rather than let his pique lead to thoughts of evisceration.

He kept the news on, even though they knew less than he did, as he stalked restlessly around the apartment. After less than a week, although it felt like six, the sun reemerged over the city of angels. There was a general stand down from red alert and Spike headed for his first good day‘s sleep in too long. His finger hovered over the off button on his cell phone for a moment before he decided to leave it on one more day, just in case. It turned out to be a good thing, as a mid-morning call from Rupert woke him up.

“What’s the situation, Rupert?” Spike wasn’t a big believer in greetings, besides, who knew how badly bollixed things could be now.

“Those idiotic, reckless half wits have thoroughly bollixed things this time. They removed Angel’s soul.” Rupert’s voice had a hard, cold edge to it, with more than a little Ripper seeping through. Not that Spike blamed him. The thought of Angelus running loose in what he still considered his territory had him struggling not to crack the case of the phone.

“I’ll be on the next flight out there,” Spike answered.

He booted up the laptop, online being the fastest way to acquire a plane ticket, when Rupert hastily said, “I need you to stay there.”

“Why?” Spike made sure his tone indicated that he better make it a damn good reason.

“Angel’s team swears they have him contained and they want Willow to re-ensoul him. She, Tara and I are heading there right now. At the moment, I wouldn’t trust this group to contain a girl scout, so Jonathan and Xander have stayed behind with Dawn. If they haven’t heard from us in two hours, they’re going to you. I’m hoping the better part of a continent will keep Angelus from tracking them down too quickly. With luck, we will arrive, perform the spell and be back home in time for dinner.”

“Since when has luck ever been with us?” Spike asked snidely.

“Exactly so,” Rupert agreed. “I can’t believe they thought this was a good idea.”

“So, which one of that bunch has turned evil now?” Spike asked through gritted teeth.

The dark chuckle Rupert responded with signaled his complete agreement. “If you don’t receive word in three hours, make sure Xander and Dawn are getting on a plane headed your direction and not off on some half-baked rescue mission.”

“No, the half-baked rescue will probably start five minutes after they touch down. Cover Willow, Angelus will want to take out the person who can restore his soul first,” Spike advised, racking his mind for everything he could remember about Angelus and his methods. “Don’t trust any of his crew. Angelus is a clever bastard and he loves his mind games, he could have turned any of them, or threatened one to control another.”

“I am very versed in Angelus’ methods, Spike,” Rupert chided. “Not only did I research him thoroughly, but I was treated to first hand observation when he reemerged in Sunnydale, as you may recall.”

Spike recalled very well the battered condition of the Watcher the day he formed his first alliance with Buffy. “I remember preventing Angelus from taking a chainsaw to you,” he reminded.

“I do remember,” Rupert sighed. “I assure you we will be careful. I have no interest in any of us being at his mercy. I will ring you back when we know more.”

“Be sure you do.” Spike cut the connection and tossed the phone on the bed. He couldn’t afford to fling it against the wall like he wanted.

Rupert was a pretty crafty bastard himself, angling them all exactly where he wanted them. Protecting Dawn pinned Xander in Sunnydale away from danger in a way nothing else could, just like protecting Xander and Dawn halted Spike from charging back to California. Spike hoped the confidence Rupert displayed in his own ability to keep the witches safe was not misplaced. Then again, Angelus had never faced Willow at her current power level, certainly not with Tara there to rein her in or augment her at need. If they guarded themselves well victory was, if not assured, probable. He still chafed at being benched.

Sleep no longer an option, Spike slouched on the couch perusing the telly’s offerings in an attempt to distract himself. Nothing held his interest in the endless parade of human misery and pettiness on view on daytime television. They considered him a monster, hm?

He debated calling Xander, but he didn’t want to tie up the phone when they needed communication lines open. Several attempts to sit down and type an email proved futile as restlessness sent him pacing after a few words, picking up random objects, only throwing a few of them.

Eventually, the phone rang.

“Well?” he answered.

“Just got the call from Giles,” Xander told him. “Angel’s soul is back where it belongs.”

“Good.” Spike sank into a chair, trying not to let too much relief slip into his voice. “Everyone okay, Will handle it all right?”

“Sounds like it got kind of hairy there for a little while. Some big, bad mystical force didn’t want Willow to put Angel’s soul back, but there’s not much that can stand up to Willow and Tara combined. The hellgod smack down twins prevailed, Angel’s all remorseful and tortured again, Giles didn’t get hit on the head and, as soon as they pack up the magical doodads, they‘re headed home.” Relief positively flooded Xander’s voice. “Looks like we have our yearly apocalypse averted with a minimum of fuss this time.”

“Oh you don’t get off that easy,” Spike said, warming to the teasing. “Come spring something worse will be knocking at the door.”

“But until then,” Xander clearly didn’t plan on being diverted, “life goes on. Giles told me about the invite for Christmas.”

Spike wasn’t sure why he was nervous. Of course, he wanted them to come, wanted to show off the nice apartment and the respect he’d earned. But Xander was a stubborn git and could throw a monkey wrench into his carefully laid plans. “And?” Spike asked cautiously.

“I was just wondering how much time I should ask off work. We get the week between Christmas and New Year’s, but I’m thinking it would be cheaper to fly up a few days earlier.” Xander’s matter of fact tone, like saying no never crossed his mind, made Spike grin like a prize fool, but he just couldn’t seem to care, besides there was no one there to see.

In the interests of disguising just how thrilled he was, he handled the logistics in a calm manner. “Probably right. There’s three bedrooms, I’m thinking that should be plenty of room. Get the best fare you can and let me know when you’re coming.”

“’I’ll find out what Dawn’s last day at school is, then check them out. Giles might have to wait, Christmas being a big shopping time.” Xander could be sitting in the living room debating dinner options with him. It was a bit surreal, considering all that had happened between them.

“Then he’ll get stuck with the couch, first come, first served,” Spike tried to inject a teasing note, but was afraid it fell flat.

“I’m, really, that is-” now Xander was the one sounding nervous. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you. I miss you.”

Did Xander actually think Spike was going to mock him for that? “Call me when you know your schedule.” Spike hung up before he could get all weepy. He might not mock Xander for his feelings, but letting Xander know how desperately he wanted to see them sounded like an abysmal idea.

Spike felt like a bit of human celebration so he headed to St. Mark’s Place. The city changed a lot while he was out west but St. Mark’s still sported the types of shops and hang outs he’d missed. He missed Manic Panic’s old store front, but progress meant he could order from them online. Still, he browsed music stores, searched the jewelry racks for an appropriate gift for Dawn, and stuck his head in St. Mark’s Comics with an eye for a Christmas present for Xander. He’d need to do some serious shopping for the whole gang if they were all headed this way. He considered his options over a slice of Ray’s pizza. Tonight was for window shopping, maybe picking up a few trinkets, he still had plenty of time.

##############################################

A couple days later he was growling at his laptop as he read the subject line of Xander’s latest email.

To: deadsexy@gmail.com  
From: donutboy@gmail.com  
Sent: December 10, 2002 7:51:36 PM  
Subject: Please read the whole message before you do anything, okay?

Don’t be mad at anyone, I asked them not to tell you until I could get a handle on the situation. A few days ago, when the happy morons in LA realized sucking out Angel’s soul wasn’t such a good idea after all, Wesley broke Faith out of prison. She and Angel have some kind of weird bond thing going on and Wesley figured she could recapture him. Which she did, so go team.

Anyway, once the fireworks were over LA seemed a little close to the people looking for her, and we could use an actual slayer instead of a robot so, she came home with Giles and the girls.

EVERYTHING IS ALL RIGHT!

Faith and I have issues, but she actually tortured Wes and he broke her out of prison so I figured I can give her another chance at least. So I talked to her. She’s changed, well, not fundamentally, she still tries to put up the tough chick defense mode, but she’s a little more open with her vulnerabilities now. Seems she got some help while she was in the big house. Anyhow, I talked with her about the kind of weird history we have and she gave me the kind of sideways apology that someone expecting to get slapped down always seems to give. I told her that since my last two serious relationships were mass murderers I can cut her some slack. The upshot is that you don’t have to worry.

She’s going to man the Hellmouth while we’re in New York, so that’s a plus. We gave her Buffy’s old room, which makes me happier than catching sight of the bot recharging on Buffy’s bed. Anyhow, you can start yelling now.

Xander

Spike closed the email, picked up his cell and dialed the land line at home.

Usually, one of the girls answered that phone, but Xander must have anticipated his call because it was Xander’s voice saying, “Hello.”

“Let me talk to Faith,” Spike said in a perfectly calm and reasonable voice.

“Now Spike, there’s no need--”

“Put the Slayer on, Xander,” Spike cut him off without raising his voice.

Xander recognized an argument he wasn’t going to win and called Faith to the phone. He heard Xander tell her, “Spike wants to talk to you.” Spike was pleased he didn’t bother trying to get them to play nice.

“Hello.” Faith clearly had no idea why Spike wanted to talk to her, he’d change that for her.

“Slayer, you know who I am?” He didn’t snarl, there was no need to.

“You’re Xan’s boyfriend, and that is an image to keep a girl warm at night.” Spike could see what Xander meant about her hiding behind the tough act.

“Everyone in that house belongs to me, Slayer. I’ve killed two of your kind. Lay a hand on any of them, fail to protect them, and I’ll take my third. As far as what keeps you warm at night, as long as you don’t touch what’s mine you can imagine all you like. Are we clear?” He suspected Faith was the type of person who liked the rules nice and defined, whether she planned to abide by them or not.

“Crystal,” she replied, insolence lacing her voice. “Now, you listen to me. I’m going to do my job here and protect the Hellmouth. I’ll do it the way I think best without you, or anyone else, armchair quarterbacking me. Anytime you think you’re vamp enough to take me out you’re welcome to try. Are we clear?”

“We understand each other then. Let me talk to Xander.”

“Your boyfriend has a big mouth,” Faith bit out, followed by an “oof” as she handed the phone back over, forcefully.

“What did you say to her?” Xander pleaded.

“Something that needed to be said.” Spike finally allowed himself to smile. “She’s a little spitfire isn’t she?”

“Well she was certainly spitting fire when she left,” Xander said, indignant. “Seriously, don’t help. I think I’m going to be murdered in my sleep now.”

“She’s not going to hurt you. She probably wants a shot at me, which suits me just fine. You just make sure she keeps her hands to herself.”

“Not even close to a problem, Spike,” Xander reassured. “Sure, she’s hot and dangerous and treats sex like an Olympic sport, but she’s not my type.”

Certain all those terms applied to him, Spike let a little growl slip into his voice with his reply. “Exactly what is your type?”

“Loyal,” Xander replied without any pause or irony.

Chapter 10

Spike spent his nights roaming the city in wildly diverse pursuits. The early part of the night he searched for the perfect gifts for his family. He even paid for them, a minor hardship considering the amount of money still sitting in the drug dealer’s accounts. As the evening wore on he often wasted a few hours in one of the clubs, depending on who was playing. He usually ended the night over on the East Side, looking for some bad guy to drain. He sometimes snacked off of several people without draining them, but nothing beat the feeling of swallowing the life of his victim to the last drop. He had blood back at the apartment for emergencies, but he rarely needed it. There were more than enough people up to no good in this city to keep him satisfied. The police should really thank him.

He trawled back alleys hoping to find something nefarious going on, when he heard a cry for help. More like a half strangled scream really, but it was the equivalent of ringing the dinner bell either way.

The sight that met his eyes when he turned the corner made him salivate. Two beefy guys were manhandling a woman between them. From the looks of things, she’d already been pretty thoroughly roughed up, her shoes and stockings missing, her blouse hung open and torn, her skirt ripped, exposing her to the waist. The taller, thinner guy held her down while the shorter, beefier one slid between her wildly flailing legs, a hungry leer decorating his face. Spike allowed his vampiric features to come to the fore, dinner was served.

The one holding the woman had his back to Spike, the other was too intent on the woman and getting his pants open to notice him. Spike judged he’d have a good thirty seconds or so with the first guy before the second could untangle himself from his trousers to take action. Depending on how involved Spike let him get, he might not notice for whole minutes. Spike imagined the thick, pheromone rich blood pulsing through the second man’s veins with keen anticipation.

The woman struggled, occupying both men entirely. The second guy barely managed to get his pants open while fumbling with the woman’s legs. Judging this was the opportune moment, Spike stepped up behind the guy holding the woman’s arms, dragged his head to the side, and ripped his throat open. He took a few quick gulps from the gushing wound before letting go, this was the quick grab, the second man promised a real meal.

The body of his first kill fell next to the woman, spraying her and his buddy with blood. The second guy looked up as the first fell, horror dawning in his eyes. As predicted, he failed to scramble up very well with his trousers around his thighs. Spike easily grabbed him and pulled him against his chest. This time he plunged his fangs in and drank slowly, the man’s whimpers and struggles making a nice counterpoint to the luscious blood sliding down his throat.

Spike savored the flavor and novelty of a leisurely kill. He didn’t get to do this much anymore and he’d missed it. The only problem was that persistent, high pitched screech in the background. It put him right off. He’d rescued the damn woman, the least she could do was let him finish his meal in peace. At times enhanced hearing wasn’t a benefit. Her high pitched shrieking grated across his nerves and he kicked out toward the sound.

There was a whoosh of air leaving lungs, a wet smack and then lovely, blissful silence. Spike hummed with contentment as he finished up his meal. The lust and adrenaline gave it just the right spice.

“Good to the last drop,” he thought as he let the body drop by his mate. The woman lay crumpled against the wall of the alley, a bloody smear decorated where her head impacted. The three of them presented a tableau of carnage that should have the local cops scratching their heads for awhile. The thought made Spike smile as he headed home.

Belly full and happy, Spike reviewed what he still had to do to prepare for the gang’s arrival. He had acquired gifts for Dawn and Rupert. Finding something to please Dawn primarily involved locating a trinket that appealed to the magpie in the girl, all sparkly and pretty. He’d located a charm bracelet with enough sparkly baubles it ought to blind her when she unwrapped it. He anticipated her squeal of delight when she tore off the wrapping paper. Rupert’s gift made him grin with pleasure. Splurging on the man gave him an odd thrill, especially when he pictured Rupert’s discomfort as receiving such a gift from him. He expected the 30 year old, single malt Macallan to induce Rupert to rub a hole in his glasses. He intended to get his fair share of the fine whisky, to tweak Rupert as much as anything else, but leave the lion’s share for the Watcher to enjoy.

The witches proved a bit more difficult, Tara particularly, but he’d managed a minor coup for her. He’d discovered a local coven that, once they heard his request, sold him a protection stone that dated back to the 17th century. It repelled all manner of nasties and Spike had to get the witches to wrap it for him as he couldn’t touch it. He got the impression he had amused them, but it was worth it for the satisfaction of watching Tara’s face when she realized what he’d procured. It wouldn’t make the house completely safe but it the average evil that overran the Hellmouth should steer clear. For Red he’d purchased black silk lingerie, lacy and sheer enough to cause a nice blush, but elegant and fine enough she’d be certain to wear it.

Xander was more of a puzzle. He could come up with plenty of things Xander would love, but he wanted this gift to be spectacular, something unforgettable and that required more than a vintage comic or Star Trek collectible, no matter how pricey.

He rode the subway back to his apartment and it brought back fond memories. He felt like the master of his domain, happily sitting at the top of the food chain, where he belonged. He people watched the car’s other occupants like a lion observing antelope at the water hole. The late night forays needed to stop once the family hit town, but another week of hunting beckoned until then and he planned to make the most of it. A few of his fellow passengers cast wary glances his way and he gave them a shark’s grin. They edged away, which only made him grin wider.

Back at the apartment, he dropped his duster over the armchair and flung himself at the couch. Remote in hand, he skimmed the channels for something interesting to watch until the early news came on. At that hour the pickings were slim. Infomercials and Nick at Nite didn’t appeal so he perused the porn channels that had come with the apartment. He liked to watch the news before heading to bed to see if he showed up. He’d been eating bad guys for a couple weeks now, he expected someone to notice eventually. He hoped for a cool dark avenger type name. He could hold that over Angel for decades. But so far the string of murderers, rapists and drug dealers left with ripped out throats elicited no comment from the media. Spike considered leaving the bodies in some naughty poses to see if he could spark interest.

Spike had trouble keeping his eyes open by the time the news began. He left the newscaster prattling the headlines while he began shutting down the apartment for the day. The crawler flashing “breaking news” at him arrested his attention. A smile crossed his face as he recognized the story. Two men with their throats ripped out who seemed to have been in the middle of raping a woman.

“The woman’s identity has not yet been released, pending informing her next of kin, but it is believed she was a tourist. She was found dead at the scene from a severe blow to the head,” declared the bleach blonde announcer. “Which begs the question, was the victim killed by the two men found dead with her, or did she fall prey to yet another monster stalking the streets?”

It was the type of overemotional hyperbole that the newscasters adored, but it froze Spike where he stood.

The victim.

He’d killed the victim.

He’d broken his promise and spilled innocent blood.

His first thoughts revolved around cover up. No one knew he was involved in this business. If they found fingerprints at the site Spike wished them luck finding his on file. No purpose would be served by confessing to this slip. One aberration did not invalidate what he had told Xander. He just needed to pay better attention, make sure it didn’t happen again.

Firm in this resolve he went to bed.

########################################################

The next afternoon he checked his email. From what he could glean Faith was fitting in a bit shakily but well enough. The group seemed a bit leery of her but ready to try. Spike learned that Faith was responsible for Dawn’s shoplifting skills. Liking this girl might not be all that hard.

He absently turned on the news as he prepared to go out. The lead story concerned the dust up from the previous night. They broadcast the identity of the victim, Pamela Brooks of West Virginia, mother of three, member of the choir at her church, blah, blah, blah. They planned to interview the grieving family on the morning show, as if that was going to be enlightening. Spike shut the television off and slumped onto the couch. Going out sounded like a bad idea for the moment. Why the hell had the stupid bint kept screaming? The woman he’d rescued last week had kept out of his way, then practically kissed him when he finished. Now that was a proper response, proper gratitude.

The whole thing had him in a funk. It wasn’t like he’d meant to kill her.

After awhile that thought refused to go away. He hadn’t meant to kill her, not really. She was an annoying noise he wanted to stop so he’d stopped it. There had been no intentionality about it, barely any conscious thought at all. And the thought that kept bouncing around in his head was why.

Despite what certain people thought, he wasn’t stupid, impulsive perhaps, but not stupid. He knew the stakes, had every intention of keeping to the straight and narrow, yet he’d killed some suburban housefrau for screaming. If he couldn’t figure out why, he might just do it again. He might never go home.

The idea of talking to Xander curdled his stomach, he’d be quietly despondent, tell Spike he understood and just accept that what they had was over. Willow would wibble at him and try some kind of useless psychobabble. He hoped to live without Dawn’s response, good or bad an explosion was inevitable. The only person with the knowledge and desire to help him surprised him.

Before he could talk himself out of it he rang up Rupert.

“Spike, what’s the matter?” That caller id function worked well obviously.

“What makes you think something’s wrong, Rupert?” Spike asked just because he felt prickly.

”You’re not one to make social calls, Spike,” Rupert responded, equally prickly, and regrettably accurate.

“I need information.” Spike tried for a conciliatory tone. He needed Rupert’s goodwill here. “I’ve killed someone I didn’t mean to. I’m trying to figure out how I make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

A heavy sigh, followed by a clinking sounded on the other end of the line served as an answer. Spike easily pictured Rupert settling in with a good stiff drink. “Perhaps you should tell me the whole story.”

Spike got through the whole story without an interruption from Rupert, which astonished him. Something had shifted in the last months of Spike’s time in Sunnydale. He and Rupert were far from bosom chums but they understood each other in a way that the others did not. Rupert wasn’t a stranger to darkness, and so never forgot Spike’s demon nature, he suspected the others did from time to time. Still, in those last months Spike sensed a reluctant warmth from the other man, as if he finally accepted that Spike loved those he’d sworn to protect. It made this admission of his failure harder. “She just wouldn’t stop screaming, Rupert. I didn’t mean to kill her, didn’t give her a thought at all really, and I’m blowed if I can figure out why I did it or how I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Another deep sigh greeted this pronouncement. “The answer is really quite simple, Spike. You don’t have a soul.”

“That shite again. I know the difference between right and wrong or I wouldn’t be calling you now asking why I screwed up,” Spike growled.

“You know the difference intellectually, but you have no moral compass, nothing giving you pause in the midst of the act. It’s actually not your fault, that ability, that moral sense was taken away from you when you became a vampire. You have no inherent empathy, it’s actually quite remarkable you lasted this long without something like this happening.” Rupert dropped into lecture mode. But this wasn’t some fascinating phenomenon, this was his life.

“So, you’re saying, no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to not kill?” For the first time Spike truly wondered if Xander might have been right all along. He doubted Xander would be smug about it this time. Spike felt his heart twisting in his chest, if that was the case he’d lost his family yet again because he go away forever rather than put them in danger.

“People you have become attached to will be safe, for a time you may even be able to refrain from killing anyone, but it’s something you have to concentrate on. If your concentration slips, you will kill again.” Spike felt like a particularly interesting bug on Rupert’s dissection table. He wanted to deny the information, claim he didn’t know what he was talking about. Problem was, he’d rung Rupert up specifically because he did know what he was talking about, and the words rang uncomfortably true.

When Spike was silent after this pronouncement, Rupert continued in a surprisingly warmer and friendlier voice. “Had you stayed, Xander’s influence might have helped you stay your hand longer, possibly even years, but it would have come to this eventually. You’ve shown an exceptional ability to choose the moral path, even to the point of self sacrifice when you withstood Glory’s torture, but those were conscious choices, acts of will. Not an innate part of you. No matter how much you might want to, it’s impossible to maintain that level of control constantly. Our soul is what gives us pause during wrongful acts, gives us that moment where we decide to do right or wrong. You don’t have that.” Rupert actually sounded sorry, which broke something apart inside Spike.

“That does it! I decide whether I’m going to be bad or good not some demonic instinct. If something’s been taken from me, I’m bloody well getting it back. I’m Andersen’s blasted mermaid.” He hung up before Rupert could express approval or try to talk him out of it.

He grabbed his duster and swung it on as he headed out the door. He needed information and the local demon bar seemed a good place to get it. He had a legend to find.

###############################################

Spike had always loved learning demon lore. It was a holdover from his human days and love of the Greek legends and epic poetry. That love had led him to both glory and tragedy. Learning about the slayer had led to prestige and some of the most brilliant fights of his existence, it had also led to some of his most humiliating and heartbreaking moments. Same with the gem of Amara. There were any number of fantastical tales floating around the demon community, some utter tripe and some that only sounded like utter tripe. Telling the difference was a tricky proposition.

Fortunately for him, he had a highly trained watcher to help him separate the wheat from the chaff. By the end of the night, he secured a couple of leads worth pursuing.

He stumbled home shortly before the sun peeked over the horizon, deciding to nap for a few hours before calling Rupert back up.

Rupert’s caller id continued to work well. “Spike! What have you done?”

“Nothing as of yet,” Spike assured the distraught watcher. “I need you to verify some information for me. Wish demon in Uganda, supposed to be able to grant you any mystical boon if you can complete the trials.”

“You realize such trials are nearly impossible to survive. What am I saying, you’ll go just to prove you’re up to the challenge.” The amount of exasperation bleeding through the phone line was truly impressive. It also confused him.

“Why the worry, Rupert?” Spike asked, honestly curious. “Wasn’t so long ago you would have gladly put a stake through my heart.”

“Spike, I’m not sure there was a time that killing you would have given me pleasure. You’ve driven me nearly insane, threatened those I cared about and made a right arse of yourself, but somehow, you’ve always come through when we needed you. Your absence these past weeks has brought home to me just what an integral part of our little dysfunctional family you are.” Spike would have sworn such words should have choked Rupert but he seemed to say it with ease.

“What about my corrupting Xander?” What made Spike push he couldn’t say, perhaps pushing boundaries bordered on compulsion for him.

“Anya accomplished that long before you,” Rupert chuckled. “I thought you would break his heart, and I was right. Now that’s been accomplished I’d like to salvage what we can. That involves you not being dust.”

“I can’t come home like this, Rupert,” Spike told him decisively, “and I won’t submit to being chained again, magically or otherwise.”

“But even if you succeed, a soul will rip you to shreds,” Rupert protested.

Spike shook his head even though Rupert couldn’t see him. He strained to shove all his certainty into his voice. “No, it’s going to make me whole.”

Chapter 11

In the end, Rupert helped him verify his bar crawl information. They pinpointed the location and discussed the likely form of the trials. Spike balked at the realization that he had to call Xander. The appeal of hearing Xander’s voice battled with the knowledge of just how disappointed and resigned Xander would sound. Spike wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, but leaving without talking to Xander smacked of cowardice. Besides, he’d promised he wouldn’t just disappear again. One promise broken was more than enough..

“Spike! Are you all right?” Spike began to wonder if the appearance of his number on the caller id always caused such panic.

“I’m fine, Xander. I take it you’ve spoken to Rupert.” While Spike needed to speak to Xander himself, to explain what he intended, he’d told Rupert he could give Xander a heads up before he called.

“He kept mumbling something about the little mermaid, which made no sense whatsoever,” Xander sputtered. “I mean, what does a singing crab have to do with anything?”

“Blasted Disney,” Spike grumbled.

“Yeah, he said something similar, then he told me it meant you were going to get your soul or die trying. Now, tell me he’s got it all wrong,” Xander demanded.

“Did he tell you why?” Spike half hoped he had. He didn’t relish admitting weakness to Xander.

“He said I had to ask you, so consider yourself asked.”

Spike realized Rupert felt it wasn’t his place to fill in that gap. In a way, it was a kindness: Rupert refused to color Xander’s perception of events, giving Spike freedom to say whatever he thought best. It also served as very effective punishment. “I broke my promise. I killed some housewife from West Virginia.”

“Oh,” Xander said in a small voice. “Did she attack you?” Xander’s question bore the thinnest thread of hope.

“No, she was being raped. I took out the two guys attacking her. I was finishing with the second one and she just wouldn’t stop screaming. Had this high pitched, grating whine of a voice, so I kicked her to shut her up. Didn’t think about it, probably have given more thought to shutting off the alarm clock. I was all the way home before I realized what I’d done.” He didn’t say he was sorry. He wasn’t sorry and lying to Xander changed nothing. Of course, he was sorry that he’d broken his promise, frustrated and a bit angry that Xander had won that particular argument, but he just couldn’t drum up any emotion over the woman herself, and that’s what Xander cared about.

Silence rang from Xander’s end of the line, then that sigh of resignation Spike had been expecting. “Spike, I won’t say I’m happy about this, because you’d know I was lying, but I accepted it as a part of you long ago. I don’t want you to change yourself because of some promise to me and I sure don’t want you to rip yourself apart with a soul, assuming you survive to get it.”

“I’m not getting it for you, Xander,“ Spike assured him.

“Spike, you love being a vampire. Why else could you possibly want a soul?” Xander said in a reasonable voice that drove Spike nearly mad. Xander knew better than to talk to him like an idiot child.

Besides, he’d given a lot of thought to the question before he called Xander, knowing he’d be asked. When he’d first had the idea it was almost an impulse. If you lost something valuable you went and got it back, simple as that. But that answer wouldn’t satisfy Xander, and Spike realized it was a momentous enough decision that he needed to give it a bit more thought. He’d spent his entire vampiric life trying to put distance between himself and William the bloody awful poet. He’d been more ruthless, more arrogant, bolder than any other member of his clan just to put that whining milk sop behind him. Now he intended to invite him into his skull to knock about and, if Angel was a good example, take over the whole show? Spike had to admit, from the outside it seemed crazy. Thing was, as much as he’d tried to separate himself from William, he never truly had. He was still love’s bitch; he’d loved Dru as much for her fractured innocence as her deadly viciousness. The Judge labeled him too human because of his love and affection while Angelus was pure demon. He was counting a lot on that difference, just as he realized that the parts of him that loved Xander, Dawn and the others were likely leftover portions of William. In the end, though, only one answer truly satisfied him. “Because it’s mine, Xander. It’s rightfully mine and I want it back.”

“But it’ll destroy you!” Xander protested. “Remember Angel? Big brooding guilt machine? Ring any bells?”

“Way I hear it, Liam had plenty to be guilty over long before he was turned. When Darla was feeling particularly evil she’d tell us how Liam’s dissipation was his undoing. Only thing I was guilty of was a broken heart.”

“What does that mean, Spike? You aren’t making any sense.” There was a note of desperation in Xander’s voice. “Let me come up there, we’ll talk about this, work something out.”

Spike gritted his teeth. He hated admitting he’d been wrong. “Xander, there’s nothing to talk about. You were right. I can’t come home like this.”

“So don’t come home.” Xander’s voice took on a level of resolve that surprised Spike. “They don’t need me here in Sunnydale now that they have Faith. We can go anywhere you want, you can show me all those places you’ve talked about. I’ve never been farther than Oxnard, I’d like to see what I’ve been missing.”

Spike smiled to himself, flattered even as he shook his head. Xander was offering to turn his back on everyone he loved to be with Spike: maybe he thought he could curb Spike’s more violent tendencies. In all likelihood, he could, but the effort, the constant battle would wear him down. Xander would forgive every slip and mourn each death as a personal failure. That wasn’t the life Spike wanted and it certainly wasn’t what he wanted for Xander. Besides, never seeing Dawn again was not something he was willing to accept. “That’s a very tempting offer, luv. Didn’t know Faith was such a good wage earner, able to pay for everything you do, is she?”

Xander hissed at the direct blow. Spike assailed him on the one point where he had no defense, his responsibility to his family. “Please, Spike, don’t do this. There has to be some other way.“

“Not for me.“ Spike felt a shudder go through him at the thought of subjecting himself to something like the chip again. “I know you want to help, but there isn’t another way that keeps everyone safe. I’ll take my chances. I’m figuring them to be pretty good.”

“How? How can this be anything but the worst of all possible ideas?” Xander questioned.

Much as Spike loathed talking about his human past, he imagined he needed to get used to it. “I’m not like Angelus, he’s pure demon, I still have bits and pieces of my human self floating around inside my noggin. He takes up residence in here again I’m counting on him not minding a bit of company.”

“That’s your idea? You’re going to risk your existence on the chance you’ll have a nice roommate?” Xander protested, but his heart wasn’t in it. Xander was a stubborn sod but he recognized a losing battle when he saw one. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

“’Fraid not, luv.”

“Will you let me help you?” Xander pleaded.

“You can’t. This is something I have to do alone,” Spike said as kindly as he could. He didn’t want Xander anywhere near the demon he was going to confront.

“Yeah, I figured. That’s the standard boilerplate for something like this. At least keep in contact. Don’t leave me wondering. Please?”

“I might be out of communication for a bit getting there, but I swear I’ll call you before I go in and I’ll contact you the second I win,” Spike assured him. Grabbing a satellite phone shouldn’t be a problem, and he knew Xander would be worrying himself sick until he knew Spike had made it. “I’m coming home, Xander.”

“You better be, Spike, you’d better be.” Spike pretended he didn’t hear the tears in Xander’s voice.

############################################################

Spike spent the next two days putting his affairs in order. Anything he couldn’t part with he put into a safe deposit box, a small one sufficed, after all these years he traveled light. He bought Xander a collector’s edition Data. It seemed appropriate somehow. Then he shipped all the Christmas gifts to Sunnydale, since there was no telling just how long he’d be gone.

He briefly considered keeping the apartment but decided against it almost immediately. He doubted William would let him keep the ill gotten gains, all the more reason to spend them before he left. He started with airfare. He bought first class from New York to London to Entebbe. Booking the return trip puzzled him for a bit. Eventually he gave himself two weeks to complete his mission. After that he expected to be successful or dust. He smiled when he imagined William coping with first class all the way back to Sunnydale.

He hired an off road vehicle to be waiting for him when he reached Entebbe. Satisfied with the reservations, he went shopping. Firstly, he needed a passport. Enough money exchanged hands to get a bona fide British passport by the end of the day. A satellite phone came next on the list. Seeing no reason to skimp, he ran over to Sharper Image and bought the most expensive one they had on offer. A tent guaranteed to block the sun’s deadly rays followed. Dodging the sun in a country with miles between buildings sounded like hell to Spike, and he wanted every advantage he could get.

The tent, phone, laptop and a couple changes of clothing fit into a duffle bag and he headed for the airport.

First class was the only way to fly such a distance. He imagined being stuffed in the cattle compartment in the back and he shuddered. Then he ordered another drink. The change of planes at Heathrow gave him a chance to stretch his legs, once he got through customs, but the fifteen hours to Entebbe nearly drove him spare. Getting off that plane came close to a religious experience. Once again, first class proved worth it as he beat the crowd to immigration and customs and breathed free, early evening air in under an hour. He loaded the Land Cruiser with his duffle and headed into downtown to acquire everything he couldn’t take on the plane. A few discreet inquiries and he loaded up on knives. He doubted he’d be allowed to use them in the trials, but he had to get there first. He purchased a sleeping bag and a few other creature comforts before heading to the nearest bar.

Fighting for his life on an empty stomach sounded like utter stupidity, and he’d been two days without a proper meal already. He wasn’t overly picky in his selection. If he wanted to make it to the cave by sunrise he needed to make tracks, so he hung out in the alley behind the bar and waited for his prey. Even so, he let a teenage girl stroll by unmolested as too small to satisfy his appetite. The next passerby fulfilled his parameters quite nicely, a big bruiser of a bloke with meaty fists, bloodshot eyes and the smell of alcohol on him. Drawing attention right now smacked of amateur hour and this one was too soused to raise the alarm quickly.

“Evening, mate,” Spike greeted his dinner as he stepped out of the shadows.

The man’s response was in a language Spike had never heard, but it sounded downright unfriendly. Not that he considered this a problem, since he liked a little spirit in his meals.

Not wanting a fuss, he clocked the bloke on the side of the head, stunning him, then dragged him back into the shadows where he buried his fangs in his neck while holding his mouth shut. The man thrashed for a moment or two, but the blood was flowing out of him too rapidly for that to last long, and his struggles merely made it gush faster.

Spike was all too aware this might be his last live meal, and he savored it like someone about to start a diet savored a last piece of chocolate cake. When blood no longer pumped out of his victim Spike reluctantly arranged the body in a dark, inconspicuous corner, wiped the blood from his own mouth and headed back to his waiting SUV.

As prepared as he could be, he headed west. He consulted his map several times, making sure of his bearings. Sunrise was still a few hours off when he hit his destination. He parked in a shaded spot just outside the sprawling village that stood at the mouth of the cave. Through that entrance lay a change to his whole existence, or its end. In the opposite direction lay his last chance to back out of the whole deal. He rang Xander without any regard for the time in Sunnydale.

Xander picked up on the second ring. He sounded anxious. “Spike?”

“I’m here,” Spike said simply.

“You decided against the scenic route, huh?” Xander’s stab at humor felt half hearted at best.

Spike hated causing him pain but this was something he had to do and he said as much. “I came here to get something. If I feel up to it afterwards, and there’s time, I’ll do some sightseeing, but I suspect I’ll just want to go home.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to skip the whole thing and just come home, would you?” Xander knew better than to ask him that. Still, he guessed it had to be said.

“You know I can’t.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Xander’s voice lost the trace of shakiness and grew firm with resolve. “Since you won’t listen to reason, I want you to go in there and fight. I’m counting on you to win, Spike. Win and come home to us.”

Spike appreciated the pep talk. It made him feel warm to remember that people missed and needed him. “I intend to, this will be over with before you know it. Rupert thinks the trials shouldn’t last more than a couple days. I’ve given myself two weeks to be on the safe side.”

“I know,” Xander sounded indulgent now, a much better sound than afraid. “You emailed me the flight information, remember?”

“Haven’t had a chance to check my email since London, didn’t know if you’d gotten it.” Spike covered with irritation so he wouldn’t ask if there would be anyone to meet him there.

Xander must have known what he was thinking. Boy was a bloody mind reader some days. “I’ll be there to pick you up. I’ll probably have to sneak out on Dawn and Giles if I want you to myself on the drive home. Everyone wants to come with me, but I’m claiming boyfriend privilege.”

Spike told himself the smile meant amusement at Xander’s silliness, not how relieved he felt. “Oi, you didn’t ask me, maybe I want to see everyone.”

“Tough.” Spike could hear the smirk in his voice. He almost hated to cut the communication short but stalling might trap him for the day.

“I need to go, Xander. It’s almost sunrise.”

“Call me, as soon as you win.” There was a slight hitch in his words.

“I will. Don’t fret.” A useless adjuration, Xander fretted like an old woman when someone he loved was in danger.

“Spike,” Xander called out as Spike prepared to hang up.

“Yes, luv?”

“I love you. Remember that.”

“I never forget it,” Spike assured him. It strengthened him at times like these. “Love you too.”

He cut the connection before Xander could say something that might weaken his resolve. He hid the phone under the front seat and got out of the SUV. His destiny awaited him.

Chapter 12

“Not asking for permission, mate,” Spike told the villager who babbled at him in some local lingo he didn’t understand. The man was obviously trying to come between him and his goal. If Xander’s entreaties couldn’t dissuade him, this man’s warnings, or threats, had no chance of swaying him.

The entrance looked like a completely ordinary cave, but he could feel the power emanating from it. The villager left him before he got anywhere near the opening. Spike guessed he didn’t fancy getting too close. Spike entered cautiously, it wouldn’t do to get his head ripped off by some nasty before he even got to the challenging stuff.

He snapped his lighter open and played the flame over the wall. The decorations in the front room resembled the scribblings of a disturbed child. Probably cave paintings from millenia earlier. Some of the images actually looked fresh, like the wall itself was bleeding.

Deeper inside the cave broke into multiple passages. Uncertain which direction to go, Spike scanned the area for a clue when a voice boomed out of the darkness. ”You seek me, vampire?”

“You do the finger painting?” Spike asked just to be a smart ass. He hardly wanted this thing to think he feared it. “Nice work.”

“Answer me,” the demon intoned. The thing had a distinctly craggy appearance, as though it were made from living rock. A couple of ridiculous spikes rose from its shoulders like stalagmites, and its eyes glowed a phosphorescent green. It stood some seven feet tall.

After an appropriate interval to show fear had not prompted him to answer, Spike responded, “Yeah, I seek you.”

The thing cocked its bullet head, as if listening to messages sent from beyond. “Something about an unintentional death.”

“Yeah, if there’s killing to be done I do it because I want to, not because I can’t help myself,” Spike said. He suspected the demon already knew all this but Spike wanted no misunderstandings.

“So, you want to return to your former self.” The booming monotone rang out again.

“Yeah,” Spike replied, wondering if the demon drug these exchanges out because he got so few visitors.

He didn’t expect the dark chuckle that emanated from the creature. Not in a mood to be laughed at, Spike demanded, “What?”

“Look what they‘ve done to you,” the demon responded in a mocking tone. “You were a legendary dark warrior and you let yourself be castrated. Chained to a groups of humans like a leashed dog. And you have the audacity to crawl in here and demand restoration.”

Massive wings flapped slowly behind the demon, irritation radiating off of it. Spike stomped into the demon’s space, bristling with indignation. “I’m still a warrior.” He shoved at the demon only to get the same reaction as punching the nearest stone wall. The thing just didn’t budge, acted like he didn’t even exist. That incensed Spike all the more. How dare tall, dark and gruesome question his status. “I helped take down a hell god.“

“You fell from a great height into a broken heap, pushed by one of her minions. Hardly impressive,” Rocky sneered. He had to call it something and it’s not like they’d been formally introduced. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a demon,” Rocky spat.

Spike struggled to get his temper under control, he wanted something from Rocky and beating it out of him appeared to be off the menu. He wanted to pound Rocky’s head in for parading his failure to protect Dawn out as an example of his unworthiness. He’d killed dozens of minions that day, gotten up the stairs faster than any of the others could have dreamed of and yet that one moment of failure would haunt him forever. If he hoped to win here he couldn’t let this psychological warfare stop him any more than the physical.

“Think we could get this show on the road, chum,” Spike challenged, “I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“You’d never endure the trials required to grant your request,” Rocky said with smug certainty.

“Do your worst,” Spike slung back, equally smugly. This thing didn’t have the first clue what he was capable of, but before the end Spike intended to show it. “And when I win, I want what I cam here for. And no nancy boy escape clauses either. I win my soul back it‘s stuck on good and tight.”

Rocky sounded like a rusty water pipe in its exasperation. Did it really think that after traveling this far, prepared to risk his existence for what he wanted, some idiotic posturing was going to make him just give up. The demon was the one who was pathetic.

“Just show me to the first trial,” he said, disgruntled. He’d beaten scores of demons in the last couple years alone. Spike expected he’d already faced worse than Rocky could throw at him.

“Strip to your pants,” Rocky said with a dismissive gesture to one of the side chambers.

Spike found himself supremely grateful he’d left the duster in the car. He didn’t trust he’d successfully retrieve anything he let out of his sight here. He really hated to lose the docs but sacrifices had to be made, he guessed. Spike hurried to divest himself of his shoes, socks and shirt in the hopes that the demon would shut up about the difficulty of the trials ahead. Possibly Rocky was trying to talk him to death.

After arranging his belongings along the wall he moved to the center of the cavern. Sand covered the floor of the largely circular room. It reminded Spike of a Roman arena, which seemed appropriate. . .

“You understand then,” Rocky repeated.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s not like you haven’t been clear about it, oh great mysterious one,” Spike couldn’t have kept the sarcasm out of his voice if he’d tried, so he didn’t bother trying. He paced, trying to burn off his eagerness to get started and to loosen up tense muscles. “This is a test. I don’t get what I want unless I pass said test. That about the size and shape?”

“Yes.” Rocky’s voice once again rang out in a monotone. If he was still irritated he hid it well. Stupid sod probably thought Spike incapable of besting his champion. Spike intended to show him the error of his ways.

“And since your pad is decked out gladiator style, and no number two pencils have been provided, guess we’re not starting with the written.” Spike despaired of the demon ever just shutting up and getting on with it already.

A mountain of a man lumbered into the arena. If this bruiser was going to present any challenge at all Spike couldn’t fathom how. “Oh, here we go then. Just me and the walking action figure.” Contemptuously, he turned from his opponent to address Rocky. “I’m venturing this would be the kill or be killed type of situation then.”

“To the death,” Rocky confirmed.

Spike turned back to his opponent, eager to begin the trial. “Right. Here we are now, entertain us.”

The walking action figure slammed his fists together and they caught fire. “Son of a --!” Spike was taken so by surprise that the action figure landed a punch before Spike managed to defend himself. Spike sprawled on the sands of the arena. He glowered from the floor, flaming fists definitely hadn’t been in the brochure. Sustained contact with those fists would be nastily fatal, made for one hell of a handicap. Spike propelled himself back to his feet but received a glancing blow to the chest before he was set. Flaming fist boy was fast, faster than someone of his bulk had any right to be. Doubt niggled at Spike’s mind, fear that he might not be up for the task ahead.

As much as he hated taking a defensive position, in this situation he had little choice. Spike dodged until he could get the measure of his opponent. He barely ducked another haymaker aimed at his head, and felt the flesh of his bicep char. Defensive moves worked about as well as the offensive ones and Spike was losing ground. He circled the columns of stone that supported the roof to put some space between him and those burning hands. He threw his own flurry of punches that local boy evaded too easily. In desperation, Spike caught one fist as it descended toward his chest and tossed local boy back.

“Bad move, bad move, bad move,“ Spike chanted as he flexed his singed hand. Avoiding the flames surrounding those hands limited his range of attack too much. Grappling was out of the question. He needed to hit him lower. His bare feet lacked the solidness that his docs provided, but they could still do damage. He snapped a kick to his opponent’s stomach that staggered him and nearly sent Spike to the floor himself. Local boy’s next punch was less controlled, and Spike managed to grab his bicep, well out of flame range, and throw him to the ground. He put everything he had into several kicks to the ribs, hoping to keep him down. He felt something give in his right foot but he kept at it. It kept the action figure down long enough for Spike to straddle him and snap his neck.

The fight took more out of him than he expected but that didn’t mean he couldn’t gloat. “Looks like local boy loses.”

“So it would appear,” Rocky sounded disappointed and Spike couldn’t give a shit.

“Good on me then. I get what I came for. I passed.” He smirked at the demon, showing weakness here could get him seriously dead.

“Indeed, you have passed the first stage of the test.” Spike thought he detected just a slight tone of triumph in the big demon’s tone.

“Bugger.” He knew it couldn’t be that easy, but a guy could hope. He hoped the next trials didn’t involve fire.

His next opponent was a scaly monster with a wicked tail who slithered out of a side passage with a speed and grace that had Spike wishing he‘d listened to Xander. He danced out of reach of the grasping arms but took a glancing blow from the tail. The impact to his ribs knocked him completely off his feet. The thing had a vicious mouth and long taloned hands in front and a whip fast tail behind. Spike ducked both ends as best he could but he was taking damage and inflicting none of his own. Spike longed for his two handed axe but, as it seemed disinclined to materialize into his hands, he rushed the monster, taking the blows it dealt while forcing the head back until something snapped and the creature went limp.

He gasped a little as he moved away from his kill. The ribs on his left side felt bruised or cracked. He knew this wouldn’t be a walk in the park but two fights in he felt pummeled flat. “So, Rocky, how about some refreshment for the victor?” He needed blood to heal, but even buying himself some time with a water break would help.

“You are conceding?” Rocky asked in that annoying monotone.

“No,” Spike growled. “Just figure I deserve a bit of a nosh between bouts here.”

“You may refresh yourself when the trials are finished,” Rocky decreed, and a creature that resembled an upright moose trotted from another of the side passages.

Spike’s fighting suffered from the wounds he’d already sustained, his responses much slower than normal. When fighting a parade of nasties the situation promised to lethal. Eventually, he spotted an opening and darted in with a killing strike on the moose thing. He punched through its midsection and got gored for his trouble.

Spike stared at the bloody hole in his side, wondering just where he was going to draw up the reserve energy for the next fight. “Just how many of these trials are there anyway?”

“As many as are necessary,” Rocky responded with infuriating calm.

Spike cursed himself for a fool. It was all a trick, a scam. He’d fight until one of these things killed him, there was no prize, just some sick game for the demon’s amusement. Spike doubted Rocky could even fulfill his request. Rather certain what answer he could expect Spike asked about the only out that seemed possible. “Hypothetically, if I did concede, what would happen?”

“You would be granted a swift death.” And that was exactly the answer he expected. Even though he believed opting for the slow, painful death merely served to entertain his host, Spike didn’t have it in him to simply give up.

“In that case, let’s get on with this.” Spike readied himself as much as he was able with his strength waning and his injuries making maintaining his feet, let alone fighting, difficult.

His next opponent was a two headed scabby thing with horns sticking every which way. It didn’t do any fresh damage before he ripped both heads off, but the ribs that had been aching now felt like liquid fire. Spike ventured a guess they were now officially broken, and that would slow him down to an unacceptable level. He found himself infinitely grateful that breathing was an optional activity for him. The foot he’d injured on flame boy protested his weight. More worrying, his other leg threatened to dump him summarily on his ass.

He kicked one head toward Rocky and tossed the other head at his feet. “Well that was a bloody doddle and a piece o’ piss,” he gasped out, agony shooting through him every time he took breath to speak. He was just about out of juice, and defiance could only sustain him so long. His leg buckled, forcing him to his knees. Unless his next bout involved taking candy from a very weak baby, the next fight would finish him. That didn’t mean he turned the attitude down any. If he had to crawl to his last bout, Rocky was not going to get the pleasure of watching him beg. No matter how much talking made his ribs scream he forced out his challenge. “You got any more ruddy tests for me, you ponce? I’ll take anything you can throw at me.”

The big demon looked down on him with disgust and Spike wished he possessed the energy to spit in the craggy face. Sadly, he had to make do with an insolent sneer. “Your final battle awaits you,” the demon intoned. “However, I have called a brief recess. You have a visitor, vampire.”

If big and ugly wanted to throw him off by confusing him, then the strategy was succeeding. A cave in the middle of Uganda was not the sort of place old friends popped in for a visit. Rocky stepped aside to reveal a tall figure scuffing the ground with his work boots. He bowed his head and looked up through the fringe of overgrown bangs like he expected Spike to yell at him.

Spike fully intended to yell at him, once he got over the shock. “Xander?”

A sheepish grin spread across Xander’s face. “Surprise?”

Chapter 13

“Xander, what the fuck are you doing here?” Spike demanded.

Defiance sparked in Xander’s eye as he took in Spike on his knees and severely beaten. “I came to make sure you don’t dust yourself here.”

Spike found the energy to get off his knees and stumble toward Xander. “I told you I had to do this alone. I thought you understood.” Spike feared that, now Xander was here, he’d suffer the same fate Spike did.

“Oh you’re doing great on your own.” Xander’s sarcasm was mitigated by the gentleness of his hands when he supported Spike, drawing him into a careful embrace. “You can barely stand. This is officially over with. You’re coming home with me.”

At this point, Spike considered the offer. He wasn’t going to survive his next fight and pride seemed less important with Xander holding him and offering him home. Of course, he’d forgotten about the demon who had merely drawn to the side, observing.

“Once joined, the trials cannot be ended until success or death results.” Rocky sounded like a bored announcer. The least he could do is offer a villainous cackle or something.

“Bullshit!” Xander shouted. “He walked in here of his own free will and he’s walking out the same way.”

Spike surged with pride for his boy while letting his head rest on his broad shoulder, just for a moment until he got his breath back. A craggy, seven foot, winged demon barely made Xander blink. The demon seemed equally unimpressed with Xander. “If he leaves without finishing the trials, he forfeits his life. He understood this when he entered.”

As little as Spike cared for the concept of fair play he couldn’t deny this. He’d received plenty of warning. Besides, the demon had enough mojo at his command that escape was unlikely. Spike burrowed closer to Xander‘s warmth, inhaling the scent of fresh cut wood that hung around him. “He’s right, Xander. I’ve got one more fight and I win. Just wait out of the way and we’ll go home together.” He entertained the tinniest shred of hope that Xander would listen to him.

“Spike, you look worse than you did after Glory worked you over. You can’t fight anymore.” To prove his point, Xander lowered him to the cave floor and Spike found he didn’t have the strength to remain upright without the support. He sprawled on his back, vaainly trying to will his body to move as he wanted it to. He groaned at his own weakness.

Xander turned to face the demon. “Fine, we’re making a substitution. I’ll fight Spike’s last fight for him.”

Spike thought of his various opponents. Some of them Xander could have taken given a proper weapon, but bare handed he’d never stand a chance. Before he could voice his own objections the big demon intervened. “You can not fight in his stead. If he does not complete the trials himself, he will perish.”

Spike found himself royally sick of the monotone, unemotional declarations. He’d love to irritate the big demon again, but getting Xander out of here was more important. “You heard the man, luv. How about you wait in the SUV outside and I’ll be out as soon as I polish off this last mook.” Spike suspected he’d be more convincing if he wasn’t delivering this speech from the floor, where he‘d just managed to rise up on his elbows. Still, he didn’t want Xander to watch this last fight. The chance he might do something to intervene and get killed for his trouble was too high.

Xander turned back to Spike and dropped beside him. Spike struggled up into a sitting position so he could face him properly. Xander appeared so earnest and intent. “Spike, I’m not leaving you here, so just forget it. We’re both walking out of here or not at all.”

Spike felt his ribs shift as he leaned forward, his attempt to cover his wince of pain failed he surmised from the corresponding pain on Xander’s face. “I don’t want you here, Xander. He’ll use you against me, throw me off in the middle of the fight.” It was the only tactic he could think of that stood a chance of working with Xander.

“You’re in no shape to fight. You need blood. Fortunately, I come with a ready supply.” Xander grinned at him so widely Spike lost his train of thought. He felt punchy and disoriented and wondered which bout had addled his brains.

“You brought me blood?” Spike asked in confusion, peering around Xander for a previously unseen flask or thermos.

Xander reached out and gently tipped Spike’s head to make him look Xander in the eye. “I don’t even want to know what customs would do if I tried to bring a cooler of blood through. I meant me.” Again Spike faced that beaming smile.

Spike crab walked backwards, away from temptation and damnation. “Not a chance in hell, pet.”

Xander pursued him on hands and knees, a scowl creasing his face. “Are you trying to tell me my blood is suddenly repellent to you? If you won’t let me fight for you, at least I can feed you, help you heal.”

Spike kept backing away until he fetched up against the cave wall. “I can’t feed from you, Xander!” He wanted to scream at Xander for making him say it out loud but he didn‘t have the breath. “I’m injured.”

“I seem to recall I fed you when you were injured the day Buffy died,” Xander pressed, using that hyper reasonable tone Spike hated, while pressing close. With the offer on the table Xander smelled delicious, his heat and vitality hitting Spike in a sensory wave.

“Different circumstances,” Spike explained through gritted teeth. The movement had exacerbated all his injuries and talking was torture, but he had to make Xander understand. “You cut yourself, I just licked up the blood, besides, Rupert was sitting right there, making sure it didn’t go too far.”

“I trust you, Spike.” Xander tilted his head, exposing a tantalizing stretch of neck toward Spike.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut to block it out. His gums itched with the desire to vamp out and take what was mere inches away. He felt utterly empty, his last meal might as well have been weeks rather than days ago. “I don’t,” he growled. “Xander, I’m starving, I get a taste of you in my mouth there’s a good chance I won’t stop ‘til I’ve drained the last drop.”

Xander moved forward again, his palms cupping Spike’s face. He stared intently into Spike’s eyes, forcing him to acknowledge his sincerity. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take. I’d much rather you drain me dry than have you die in this miserable cave.”

Spike cupped Xander’s face in return, willing him to see his determination. “You think I could live with that? Step over your lifeless body and skip merrily on my way?”

“So you’re just going to die here,” Xander protested. He rose and started pacing in front of Spike. “For what, a soul? What the hell do you need a soul for anyway?”

Spike shook his head, wishing he possessed the words to explain. But words that would satisfy Xander escaped him. “It’s part of me. it was ripped from me and I want it back.”

Xander dropped to his knees beside Spike, the pleading look on his face breaking Spike’s heart. “Fine. Fight for your soul, take out this last opponent and get your heart’s desire.” He leaned forward and pulled his shirt collar away in a ridiculously theatrical gesture. “But you need blood to do it.”

“I could kill you,” Spike protested.

Xander’s grin reminded Spike of all the times Xander went rushing heedlessly into battle. “Then I get to die giving you what you need. I can’t think of a better way to go. Now drink.”

Spike realized he’d never win this argument. Xander’s love and stubbornness couldn’t be overcome by logic. So he took Xander’s face in his hands and kissed him as deeply and passionately as his battered body would allow. Kissed him goodbye. When they separated, Xander panted for breath. “Come here, luv, let me hold you.”

Sensing victory, Xander settled with his back to Spike’s chest. Spike grabbed Xander in a sleeper hold and held on as Xander struggled against him. Even that brief struggle, with Xander desperate not to harm his assailant, took the last of Spike’s waning strength. Once Xander’s head lolled against his shoulder, Spike released the hold and, as gently as he could manage, lowered Xander to the sand of the cave floor. He allowed himself one last kiss before he staggered to his feet, determined to meet his end with whatever dignity he could muster.

“Bring on your champion,” he challenged. “Whatever happens to me, no harm is to come to him. He’s not part of this, understand?”

“On the contrary, vampire, he is very much part of this,” Rocky insisted. “The need for fighting has passed.”

Exhaustion and weakness had to be making him stupid, because Spike couldn’t understand what Rocky was on about. His confusion must have been obvious because Rocky continued. “You have passed the trials, the prize is yours.”

Spike reeled with that information, but suspected a trick, another price. “What about Xander?”

“He is safe at home.”

Spike turned to where he had left Xander moments ago and found the space empty, no sign Xander had ever been there. The shock was too much and he hit his knees again, still staring at the empty place by the wall. Xander had felt so real, sounded just as he remembered, argued and fought with him like the real Xander. Of course, if that version of Xander had come from his mind how could he act as anything but exactly what Spike expected?

“You have endured the required trials. We will return your soul.” Rocky stood behind him and Spike was still attempting to comprehend that he won when a huge, rough hand reached over his shoulder and landed over his heart.

Pain radiated out from his chest until it blazed along every nerve ending. He screamed, certain fire had to be shooting out from his body and he would collapse into ash any second. Then the pain consumed him and he fell into darkness.

Spike heard the murmur of voices speaking a language he didn’t understand. He rested on a soft pallet with a fresh smelling sheet and blanket draped over him. A fire crackled nearby, warming his left side. It didn’t sound or feel like hell. He risked opening his eyes and saw he was in a hut, probably one of the huts close to the mouth of the cave. Two people stood in the doorway, blocking the fading light of the setting sun.

He got a moment to take in the fact that he didn’t dust in that cave before the soul he’d won made its presence felt. He cried out as every act he’d committed in the past 120 years was cast into a new light. Deaths he’d barely taken notice of suddenly weighed him down into the dirt. He arched his back, the pain in his mind demanding physical expression and the agony that caused his abused body rivaled the torture of his soul.

A gentle hand laid on his shoulder, trying to press him back into the pallet. “You must be still. You are gravely injured,” a woman’s voice insisted.

Taking shallow breaths, Spike attempted to obey the injunction. “Who are you?”

“Miriam,” she answered with a smile. “You have survived the trials and so we will tend your wounds and provide shelter until you regain your strength.”

“Shouldn’t be around me,” Spike shivered, feeling as if he was transferring his depravity to her through her touch. “You don’t know what I am.”

Miriam smiled broadly at him. “Of course I do.” Another villager entered the hut and handed Miriam a mug. They exchanged a few words, then Miriam turned back to him and slipped an arm beneath his shoulders to raise him to a half sitting position. Then she held the mug out to him. “You must drink to regain your strength.”

He took the mug almost reflexively. The smell pricked his senses immediately, it was blood. The taste identified it as cow blood. Relief flooded him, he didn’t think he could take human blood just at that moment. It also answered the question of whether they knew what he was or not. They were clearly aware of the needs of the monster they harbored. It did bring to mind another question. “Why are you helping me?”

“It is our task to tend to those who complete the trials,” Miriam answered brightly.

“Keeps you busy, does it?”

“Oh no.” She shook her head and her dangling gold earrings danced in the firelight. “There has not been a survivor of the trials since my mother was a young girl. It is very exciting!”

Spike drained the mug and sank back onto the pallet. He twitched as scenes of the mayhem he’d caused, the lives he’d destroyed, flashed through his mind. But one thought rose out of the pain and self recrimination. As Miriam took the mug from him, he grabbed her wrist before she could move away. “Please, in my car there’s a satellite phone, I need to make a call.”

“Of course,” she responded, her smile never dimming.

Spike released her arm and eased back onto the pallet. “How long was I in there?” he asked.

“Two days,” she answered and left the hut.

Spike stared up at the thatching that made up the roof and tried desperately not to give in to the overwhelming guilt that threatened to consume him. He cataloged his many injuries to distract himself. A week might not suffice to heal all his wounds, but he’d at least be mobile in time to catch his flight.

He lost track of time, sinking back into a Technicolor rewind of his “glory days,” and Miriam’s return to the hut startled him.

She handed him the phone with a titter. Clearly, his entertainment value exceeded expectations. “Thank you,” he said, hoping she would take the hint and give him some privacy. He hoped in vain, as she wated to see what new tricks he might do. Ignoring her for the moment he dialed.

Xander answered on the first ring. “Spike?”

“I made it, I’m coming home.”

Chapter Fourteen

By the end of a week, Spike’s wounds healed enough for him to get around. His movements remained a bit stiff, but not enough to keep him from flying. The battle raging between his demon and his soul promised to go on longer.

Spike felt like a civil war rampaged inside his skull. The soul reminded Spike of every misdeed and why it was wrong. So appallingly, gut wrenchingly wrong. The demon didn’t appreciate guilt thrust upon it for being a demon. The demon particularly resented Spike putting the soul in the driver’s seat. Seeing as Spike had gone through this whole, extremely painful, process just to have the soul’s guidance in daily life, that issue was non-negotiable.

He caught sleep in cat naps, his dreams tended to cause him to wake up screaming. Over one hundred years of not caring about anything except catering to Drusilla’s needs and whims gave a fertile playground for guilt-soaked nights. Dru had a fondness for children and Spike had procured them for her, beautiful girls in beautiful dresses, living dolls for Dru’s macabre tea parties. He and Dru went through orphanages the way Angelus went through nunneries. At the time, all he’d seen was Dru’s delight in the gifts, twirling the tots around in glee, disemboweling them to read their entrails, crooning lullabies the whole time.

Now he could see the children. Huge, frightened eyes turned to him, pleading for hope, uncomprehending that fate handed them over for slaughter. All of them short-lived playthings for his dark princess. He remembered laughing as they struggled or whimpered in fear; finding amusement in their pathetic attempts to escape. He often woke to dry heaving, grateful his appetite was spotty at the moment.

 

Then there were the kills he couldn’t even partially blame on Dru. It began with his torture of the poor fools who flung their petty insults at him, mocking his awful poetry. At the time he’d felt fully justified. There followed a seemingly endless parade of young men and women who took him for a friend or possible lover only to find ugly death the second they were alone with him. Even worse were the victims he felt obliged to torture for hours or days, just to prove he wasn’t soft to other demons. The bitter irony of those memories burned. He hadn’t even enjoyed those deaths at the time. He’d just never developed much of a taste for torture. Unless you had reason to hate someone it was a tedious waste of time and perfectly good blood.

Between the battle waging in his skull and the lack of real sleep, Spike felt like he was going mad.

Miriam kept plying him with blood and talking to him. She pulled out of him the less blood-soaked of his memories of his long life. Even when he tried to push her away, feeling unworthy of human company, she stayed and talked to him, teasing him out of his darker contemplations.

Miriam served as a reminder of the good that came with having his soul back, reminded him that it existed to do more than torment him. Her compassion and empathy kept him from going completely round the twist. She got him talking about the one thing the demon and soul both agreed on, his family. Dozens of stories of Dawn, the witches, Joyce, Anya, Buffy, Rupert and most of all Xander fell from his lips at her urging.

Those stories and the feelings they engendered highlighted one of the other advantages of possessing a soul. He loved them before, he remained certain of that, but it paled compared to how he loved them now. Sometimes the feelings bubbled up so strongly that he thought his chest would burst with them. Even his love for Dru intensified, tempered by pain at the atrocities they committed together, but burning brightly just the same. At times the joy pulsed so powerfully it overwhelmed the remorse and pain over his past sins. Other times he feared the twin sensations might rip him apart.

The daily phone calls back home were a lifeline. Everyone wanted a few minutes to assure themselves he remained undead. Each one of them shattered his delusion of being unwanted in their own way. Dawn insisted she was flunking history and English without him, Willow babbled incoherently, but it was a pleasure to hear, Tara told him she looked forward to reading his aura anew when he got home, Rupert spluttered and stuttered as if the words he wanted to say crowded his mouth too full for expression. He did finally manage to thank Spike for the Scotch and promised to wait for his return to crack it open.

Xander, oh Xander lavished words on him that they had both been too concerned with maintaining a manly image to speak. Spike fell into his words like a warm blanket and gave back every poncy syllable until he was forced to make salacious comments of the things he wished to do to Xander upon his return just to save a little face. It had been a long dry spell for them both after all.

Only the realization that the phone bill could break them allowed him to ring off at all.

Still, without Miriam, bearing that first week would have destroyed him. After the third time he awoke screaming from his futile attempt to sleep, she brought him a talisman.

“You can only use this if someone you trust watches over you. It will impart dreamless sleep. You may put it on but another must remove it. While you wear it you will not awake, even in sunlight,” she cautioned.

Spike ran his fingers over the bright beads. “Not sure I deserve restful sleep.”

Miriam made an unladylike noise and clasped his hand. “You must work through your memories, sort out the mess up there.” She tapped his forehead with one calloused finger. Somehow, Spike didn’t mind her mocking him so much. “But you must sleep or you will go crazy. Wait too long, you begin to see things that aren’t there.”

Spike could all too well imagine the hallucinations he would have. He squeezed her hand. “Would you watch out for me?” he asked, holding the talisman out to her.

Her bright smile nearly blinded him. “Of course,” she said, as if he was silly for having to ask. She slipped the thong over his neck and whispered, “Sleep well” with a kiss to his cheek before he slipped into unconsciousness.

####################################

The plane ride home was pure torture. The anticipated guilt over flying first class on a dead drug dealer’s money failed to materialize, but sleep proved impossible. He couldn’t use the talisman without risking immolation by an innocently raised window shade. Without it, his screaming and flailing as the inevitable nightmares took hold promised to draw unwelcome attention. So he watched the drivel programming, listened to music, read a book he picked up at the airport and basically fought sleep, haunted by the gnawing fear that, despite their many reassurances, he wouldn’t be welcome back home.

By the time he hit Sunnydale, he hadn’t slept in close to three days and he felt wrung out. Xander waited for him in the baggage claim and Spike found himself frozen to the spot when he saw him. His exhausted brain refused to formulate a proper response to him. Fortunately, Xander suffered from no such impediment. He strode across the intervening space, took Spike’s face between his large, oh so warm palms and kissed him thoroughly. Spike fell into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Xander automatically. Unmindful of the bustle around them, they surfaced an unknowable amount of time later.

“God, I missed you,” Xander whispered, keeping a hand on Spike as if he feared Spike might disappear. He closed his eyes briefly and blew out a breath. “So, we should get your luggage.”

“This is it, Luv,” Spike said, hefting his duffle. “I’m good to go.”

Xander began towing him toward the exit. “I’m parked in the garage, we can be there in two minutes.”

Spike wondered if Xander’s eagerness proceeded from a desire to get him somewhere private or because he looked ready to keel over. He got his answer a moment later when Xander asked, “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Miriam made sure I got a full eight hours before I left for the airport. Couldn’t afford it after that,” Spike confessed, pushing himself to catch up with Xander rather than dragging behind.

Xander appeared to be doing some mental calculations then stared at Spike in dismay. “You must be dead on your feet.”

“Wouldn’t say no to a good kip,” Spike allowed with a small smile. Their bed at home would be a very welcome sight. “But I know I’ve got a round of welcome backs to go through before we get to that. Please tell me you didn‘t plan a welcome home party.”

“No party that I’m aware of. Don’t worry, I’ll run interference for you,” Xander offered. They arrived at the truck and Xander seemed reluctant to let go so they could both climb in. Spike didn’t begrudge him the hesitation. Since the last time he thought he’d seen Xander he’d disappeared into thin air, caution seemed entirely reasonable, so did the sigh of relief Xander let out when they were both in the cab of the truck.

Xander turned to face him without starting the engine “Listen, there are some things I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry with everything you were facing, but I think you should know before we get home.”

Spike didn’t like the sound of that. Just what catastrophe had Xander thought Spike shouldn’t worry about?

Xander gripped his wrist and ran his other hand lightly up and down the inside of his arm. “It’s nothing catastrophic,” Xander said as if he could read Spike’s mind. “But Robin is part of the team now and I don’t want you taken by surprise if you see him.”

For several long seconds Spike tried to figure out who Robin was, the answer seemed so improbable he couldn’t grasp it at first. “Wood?”

“Yeah, I kinda thought you’d react that way,” Xander replied, redoubling his efforts to soothe Spike. “He and Faith ran into each other on patrol. And, well, they kind of hit it off. They both have that animal magnetism thing going for them, I guess. Actually, he’s not such a bad guy when you get to know him, calls Faith on a lot of her bullshit …” Xander trailed off when he noticed Spike’s glare. “Okay, the point is, he and Faith are out tonight so you shouldn’t have to see him right off the bat. I just wanted to give you fair warning.”

Xander stared earnestly into Spike’s eyes while grasping his upper arms. “It’s been made very clear to him that he is not to threaten you in any way. That still stands, Spike. That will always stand.”

Spike sighed as he took this information in, his feelings about Wood were far too complicated to contemplate on so little sleep. Xander’s expression made it very clear that at his word Wood got thrown out on his arse. Soon enough he could assess the situation for himself. “Can always use another strong fighter,” he allowed.

Xander kissed him like he simply couldn’t help himself and Spike, not in the least adverse to this, pulled him close to do a bit of return ravishing. They were both panting when they pulled apart.

Xander shook himself to regain focus. “One more bit of important news and we’re headed home,” he assured. “Both Faith and Robin know Buffy is dead. It just wasn’t possible to keep it from them long term.”

Spike nodded his acceptance of this truth and Xander looked relieved. “They don’t know about Dawn and it’s staying that way.” Spike got the impression there had been a rather intense Scooby meeting about that and couldn’t help a lopsided smile. “Right,” Xander visibly forced himself to disengage and turn to face front. “That’s everything, time to head home.”

Spike allowed himself to relax back into the seat. “So, Wood doing right by you lot?”

“Even better, he’s good for Faith. He doesn’t have old baggage with her so he can say things the rest of us can’t.” Xander’s fond smile won Wood a few more brownie points in Spike’s estimation.

Spike laid his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle motion of the truck. He struggled not to give in to exhaustion, he needed to brace himself for the reunion at home. Intellectually, he knew everyone was happy to have him home, they’d all assured him of that over the phone. He still couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in his stomach when he anticipated his reception.

“So, Miriam’s a pretty special lady, isn’t she?” Xander asked casually.

Spike smiled thinking of Miriam’s warm smile and gentle hands. “She held me together after the trials. Don’t know what I would have done without her; gone crazy, I suspect.”

“She pretty?”

“Beautiful. And her laugh is like music.” Spike rolled his head toward Xander as the tone of his voice finally processed. One look at Xander practically grinding his teeth and his head snapped up and he turned to face Xander. “You’re jealous!” he shouted, incredulous.

Xander’s practically growled out. “It should have been me there holding you together.”

Spike reached out to cup Xander’s cheek. “You were there. Every step of the way. Sometimes I needed Miriam to remind me of that fact. She pestered me for stories of all of you when I started getting lost in the nightmares, made me remember people loved me. That you still loved me. If you think you have a rival, you’re dafter than I took you for.” Somehow, Xander’s jealousy eased some of the worry in his gut.

Xander kept his eyes on the road but he leaned into the touch, snaking one hand up to cover Spike’s and hold him there. “I just felt so helpless,” he confessed.

“I know,” Spike sympathized. “But I’m glad you weren’t there. Thought I was going to die and the only comfort I had was knowing you were safe.” Spike figured he could tell Xander the details of the trials later, much later, when he felt more awake.

Without meaning to, Spike dozed the rest of the ride home. Xander shook his shoulder gently. “We’re home.”

Spike took a deep breath and climbed out of the truck. There must have been a sentry at the window because he hadn’t managed to shut the door when he found his arms full of excited teenager. “You’re home, you’re home!” she chanted. She lifted her face from where she had it buried in his chest to level a glare at him. “You can’t ever do that again, understand?”

“I think it’s safe to say I’m home to stay, Dawn,” he told her, stroking her hair back from where it had fallen in her face. It felt wonderful to have her close again, she’d shot up another couple inches during his absence.

Willow and Tara made it a group hug a moment later. The front lawn seemed a poor place for a proper reunion. Xander apparently agreed. He laid a proprietary hand on Spike’s shoulder to steer him toward the front door while shooing the girls away. “Let’s take this inside ladies,” Xander advised while herding them all into the house.

The girls quizzed him on how he felt, offered him food and blood faster than he could answer their queries. Xander proved excellent at running interference. He sent Dawn off to heat Spike some blood, after two days on planes and in airports Spike admitted he was peckish. Willow and Tara he commissioned to bring out the snacks and drinks that waited in the kitchen. Aside from the giggling coming from the kitchen, the house got much quieter.

Rupert took the opportunity to step forward and clasp Spike’s hand. “Welcome home, Spike,” he said with a broad grin and a manly clap on the back. “We’ve missed you.”

Spike flailed for the proper thing to say and found himself settling on. “Thank you for looking out for them, and the research and such.“

“Wait,“ Xander stopped, clearly unhappy. “You helped him track down this demon?“

Spike thought it wise to intervene before Xander got too stroppy. “I would have gone anyway, Rupert made sure I had the information I needed. Might not have survived without it.”

“Yes, well,” Rupert’s eyes signaled appreciation for the diversion, and he continued on with a quick subject change. “Faith is staying with Robin tonight so you shouldn’t have to deal with anyone but us before tomorrow at the earliest.

Spike nodded his gratitude. Sounded like they all called Wood “Robin” around here now. Seemed likely he needed to adjust his feelings toward the man.

The girls bustled back in bearing food and blood. The warm blood they plied him with felt good sliding down his throat. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was.

“Do you want some more?” Willow asked brightly. “We stocked up.”

He scanned the people surrounding him and broke a little inside. He found himself nearly gasping for breath as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Hiding his face, Spike tried to keep from openly weeping like a big girl’s blouse. The assault of everyone’s love, approval and care overwhelmed him. The intensity of emotions still caught him by surprise. His defenses low from exhaustion, he failed to process it all.

He heard Xander trying to calm everyone down, even as he moved to sit next to Spike on the couch. Spike breathed in his scent, the feel of his arm around him and wrested control back. He set the mug down as he stood. “Sorry everyone,” he apologized. “Just a bit overtired. Expect I‘ll be better after some sleep.”

“All right folks,” Xander’s voice chimed in, his arm firmly wrapped around Spike‘s shoulders. “I know you’re all glad he’s home, but I think it’s time I took my vamp to bed.” Then Xander gently, but firmly, steered him toward the basement. Everyone made understanding noises and Spike let himself be maneuvered into the kitchen to the basement stairs.

Spike looked for differences as he descended the stairs. Xander tinkered with their living space constantly, shelves, cabinets, weapon racks springing up regularly. The place sported no new additions. “The place looks the same,” Spike commented, counting on Xander to know what he meant.

“I don’t spend a lot of time down here,” Xander responded sheepishly. “Without you around it just wasn’t fun.”

Spike caught Xander in an affectionate headlock. “If I weren’t done in I’d say let’s rechristen the place.”

He dropped his duffle by the side of the bed and began taking off his boots. The knots seemed to tangle no matter how he pulled at them.

“You really are tired,” Xander observed, as he dropped to his knees and took over the removal of Spike’s boots. Spike managed his own shirt but let Xander help him with the rest. Spike pulled out his talisman and contemplated it.

“Not sure you want to use it?” Xander asked, clearly reading his mind.

“I use this I’m out, like my brain is switched off. I’d like to be aware, know I’m home.” He looked up at Xander, beseechingly. “Feel your arms around me.”

Xander took the talisman from him and placed it carefully on the nightstand. Then he began divesting himself of his own clothes. “How about we see if I can keep the nightmares at bay?”

Chapter 15

Blood, pleading eyes, Dru’s mad laughter assaulted his mind while guilt and pain threatened to smother him. Another sound started up, barely heard through the screams and recriminations. Deep voiced and reassuring the sound pulled him away from the nightly visitation of his past crimes, his victims baying for his blood. He became just aware enough to acknowledge delicious warmth pressed against one side, then slipped into more restful sleep.

When he awoke Xander was right beside him, watching him with an affectionate grin. “Afternoon, sleeping beauty.”

Spike squinted at the clock over Xander’s shoulder. It read 1:30. “Have you been here all day, luv?” Spike asked, incredulous. By that reckoning he’d been asleep nearly twelve hours.

“I’m sure the novelty of watching you sleep will wear off eventually,” Xander said, leaning in for a kiss. “But not anytime soon. I took the week off work just so I could indulge.”

Spike reflected that he didn’t deserve the man lying next to him, but he would do nothing to endanger the chance of staying right where he found himself.

“Please tell me you’ve eaten at least,” Spike admonished. He‘d expected another catnap, maybe two or three hours. “I can‘t believe I slept so long.”

“The girls made sure I got lunch. They all think you‘re cute asleep, by the way,” Xander teased. Spike wasn’t quite able to scowl at him properly. “You had a few bad dreams but a little judicious back rubbing and off key crooning put you back to sleep. Hungry?”

“Famished,” Spike allowed. He felt refreshed and ready to take on the day. He reached for his duffle only to find it gone. He was casting about the room, trying to determine where he dropped it when Xander cleared his throat pointedly. Spike raised an eyebrow at him.

“I unpacked for you,” he confessed. “It’s not like I didn’t know where stuff went.”

Spike couldn’t manage to pretend to mind. “Ta, luv.” He scrambled out of bed and got dressed enough to head upstairs. It felt good to pull freshly laundered clothes out of his own dresser. Xander apparently made good use of his time and the washing machine while watching him sleep. The feeling of belonging practically overwhelmed him.

“Okay, that’s going to take some getting used to,” Xander declared.

“What?” Spike asked, confused.

“That was the same look you had last night, like everything was just too much,” Xander replied from his sprawl on the bed.

“That’s pretty much exactly what it is. The soul does more than torment, Xan. Wouldn’t be much point in getting one otherwise,” Spike pointed out matter of factly.

Xander seated himself cross legged on the bed as if anticipating a story. “What’s it like?”

Spike momentarily thought of misunderstanding or teasing him, but ultimately decided the subject was too important. “It’s like that bit in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy walks out of the farmhouse into all this deep, intense color. It’s going to take some adjusting.” Deeply flawed as the analogy was, Xander stared in something approaching awe at him. It probably did the trick for now, and he didn’t want to delve further on an empty stomach.

“Now you may have had lunch but I didn’t,” Spike said as he climbed the stairs.

He found Tara puttering in the kitchen. “Finally,” she said, sporting an impish smile. “I thought we would have to feed Xander dinner down there as well.”

“Sorry.” Spike smiled, not sorry at all. “Had a bit of a sleep deficit to make up.” He noted that Tara seemed more relaxed around him than she had the entire time they had known each other. Seemed the soul had a few extra benefits. “So, aura not as scary anymore?”

Tara ducked her head and grinned. “It’s similar to Angel’s actually.” She pulled a bottle out of the refrigerator and poured a mug brimful.

“Take that back!” Spike protested. “I’m nothing like Angel. Angel’s dull as a table lamp. And we have very different coloring.”

Tara chuckled and Spike scowled at her, which seemed to incite more laughter. Alarmed that she might spill the blood on herself Spike reached for it. “Let me take care of that. No need to wait on me.”

Tara deftly moved the mug away and into the microwave. “I want to,” she insisted. She set the timer and turned back to Spike and leaned back against the counter. “I meant that I can see the demon and the soul all twined together. The soul is a very pretty green with the demon twined around it. But you’re right, you are different from Angel. The demon struggles to overwhelm the soul in him, yours is more partnered. It’s fascinating, really.”

Spike very definitely didn’t want to hear about his fascinating aura. Thankfully, the microwave dinged at that moment and Tara handed him the mug. The smell reminded him of his growling stomach. He took the interruption for a convenient subject change. “Ta, luv. Will the Slayer and Wood be by tonight?”

He took a drink while Tara stammered. “They don’t have to be, if you’re not ready, that is, if you want to wait, we’d understand.”

Spike hid a smile in a second gulp of blood. Everyone falling over themselves to protect him amused him. But Spike never saw the point in putting necessary things off. This situation needed dealing with and better now than later. “So, they dropping by for dinner or what?”

“We could do dinner,” Tara allowed, still looking skeptical.

“It’s settled then,” Spike said with finality. Before he might have viewed Tara’s stammering and reluctance as weakness, now he appreciated the caring that it denoted. “Anyone else at home right now?”

“Dawn and Willow are both at school,” Tara accepted the subject change, with gratifying alacrity. “They should both be home soon though.”

Spike finished off his blood. “Good, didn’t get a chance to properly see everyone last night.”

Xander emerged from the basement behind him. “You’ll have lots of time to say hi to everyone. Not like you’re leaving again, right?” Xander said pointedly.

Spike had to grin at Xander’s emphatic declaration. “Not going anywhere,” he agreed. “Course, leaving wasn’t exactly my idea, as I recall.”

Xander’s shame faced expression took all the fun out of the teasing. “I’m sorry, Spike. I was a coward. I should have had more faith in you.”

Spike cupped Xander’s cheek. “I understand why you did it, luv. Took traveling to the other side of the world and a lot of pain and suffering but I understand now. And you were right.”

Xander’s eyes begged for forgiveness Spike found himself all too willing to give. “It was the right decision.”

Xander seemed to find what he sought in Spike’s eyes. Their lips met and the kitchen melted away. Spike pulled away, enjoying the look of stunned lust on Xander’s face. After a few seconds Xander found his voice. “You know, you’re all not sleep deprived and fed, how about rechristening the bedroom?”

Spike indulged in a somewhat less passionate kiss. “I would love to, but I need to go talk to Rupert before the Slayer and Wood get here.”

Xander looked sharply over at Tara. “They’re coming here?”

Tara shrugged. “Spike said he wanted to see them.”

“Are you sure?” Xander asked pointedly, illustrating perfectly why he needed to speak to Rupert. Everyone else tried to wrap him in cotton wool, he required a more dispassionate lay of the land.

“I’m very sure,” Spike said, giving Xander a reassuring smile. “I take it Rupert’s at the shop?”

“I just get you home and you’re already running off,” Xander complained with a ridiculously cute pout.

“I’ll be home in time for dinner, I promise,” Spike assured with a lecherous grin. “Don’t make plans for after dinner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Xander agreed with a hopeful smile. After another few seconds he released Spike. “Yeah, he’s at the Magic Box.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he told Xander, nodded at Tara and headed out. He’d never feared the sun like most vampires, willing to risk flirting with the deadly rays to get where he wanted to go. The manhole twenty feet from the house helped as well.

He came up through the basement of the Magic Box without incident. Nothing nasty moved into the sewers between the house and the shop in his absence, to his great relief.

Rupert was just finishing with a customer when he emerged from the back.

“Spike! This is a surprise.” Rupert looked genuinely pleased to see him, which gratified him more than his reputation could stand. “I felt certain you and Xander would be making up for lost time.”

“I’ve got that scheduled a mite later,” Spike said with a grin. He glanced around the shop. A couple of customers browsed but it didn’t look busy. “I needed to talk to you.”

Rupert cast his own eye about the shop. “Certainly, should I close?”

“It’s not an impending apocalypse this time,” Spike assured. “Just some advice.”

Rupert smiled back and directed him to the table where so much Helllmouth business had been conducted. It afforded a reasonable view of the register while allowing for some small bit of privacy. Spike perched on the edge of the table. “In that case, how may I help you?”

“I need to know what the situation with Faith is? Are you her watcher now?” Spike watched a complex set of emotions cross Rupert’s face as he took off his glasses and examined them, as if they might require polishing.

Before he ever opened his mouth, Spike knew a few things with certainty. Rupert might guide and teach Faith but he’d never be the watcher to her that he’d been to Buffy, that part of him resided in the grave with her.

“As we are keeping Faith’s whereabouts secret from the Council, I suppose I am, after a fashion,” he allowed.

“You don’t seem too certain about it,” Spike prodded. “It sounds like she and Wood are a package deal and I may be about to piss Wood off mightily. I need to know what trouble I’m causing before I do more.”

“I see,” Rupert said, replacing his glasses. “It is a matter I have given some thought. Now that you have returned to defend the Hellmouth, your established territory, I fancy Faith and Robin may find it advantageous to move elsewhere. There is another Hellmouth in Cleveland I’m given to understand.”

Spike chuckled to himself, which caused Rupert to flash him a disapproving look. “I fail to see what is so amusing.”

“Just the irony,” Spike admitted, unsure if he was bitter or merely tired. “Faith is the slayer, the chosen one. By rights, everything should revolve around her. Yet here she is struggling to fit in with the previous slayer’s merry band of misfits. One of whom happens to be a recently souled vampire. Fate has one wicked sense of humor.”

Rupert dropped into a seat and stared into the shop, although Spike doubted he saw the milling customers. More likely he saw the golden haired girl who embodied the center of their small universe once upon a time. “I see what you mean,” Rupert said softly. “Faith has always stood apart. I’m unsure if she desires to be part of our family or not. Until she makes up her mind it is difficult to fully accept her.“ Then, proving that he never forgot an idle comment, added, “In what way are you expecting to piss Robin off.”

Spike found sitting still impossible for this conversation. He paced in front of the table. “I’m trying to decide what to say to him when I see him tonight.”

Rupert nodded encouragingly.

“On one hand, I won’t have many chances to apologize to the families of my victims. I hate squandering the opportunity. But the thing is, Nicki Wood’s death isn’t one I feel guilty about,” he explained.

At Rupert’s raised eyebrow he dropped into a chair, leaning forward in the intensity of his emotion. “She was a slayer, not some defenseless victim I lured into an alley to die. It was a fair, one on one fight. My toughest fight, until I met Buffy. I wouldn’t do it now, but I’m not ashamed and I don’t think I can pretend to be.”

This time Rupert did polish his glasses. “You realize, as a watcher, I have a different perspective.”

“I’m not saying I don’t regret it. Killing a mother with a little one at home, of course I do. Although, in my defense, slayer’s don’t usually come with a kid in tow. Damned irresponsible if you ask me.”

“I’m quite sure the Watcher’s Council agreed with you, fervently,” Rupert said with a sour expression.

“Be that as it may, she was the slayer, I was a vampire without a soul, not really reasonable to expect me to throw myself on her stake is it?” Spike pulled out the belligerent attitude like a protective cloak.

“I suppose not. Although I believe you actively sought her out.” Rupert’s superior knowledge irked Spike at times.

“Course I did, the rush of fighting someone that powerful, it intoxicated me. A fair fight, I won, broke her neck quick and clean. No torture, no threatening her loved ones, I’m not bloody Angelus,” Spike insisted, defensive despite himself. “I’ve done evil, Rupert, so much that it keeps me up screaming at night, feeling like I’m burning with the shame of it. But her death wasn’t evil.”

“I imagine one could view it as two enemy combatants,” Rupert allowed. “Are you asking for absolution?”

“No, I killed his mum, no one could forgive that. I want to know if I should leave, turn right back around and let Robin and Faith have this place. Go defend the Hellmouth in Cleveland or some such instead.”

The blow was unexpected and held enough force to knock him out of his chair. “How dare you,” Rupert intoned in a cold and deadly voice. “Everything you’ve put them through and you’d just flounce off and leave them again?”

Spike felt his jaw gingerly, staring up at Rupert towering over him. He didn’t move. “I don’t want to, I’m asking you if I should.”

Rupert crouched down before him. “Then listen well. Faith is a good slayer and Robin is an exceptional fighter, but neither of them fight with the heart and passion I know you can. Neither of them will throw all caution to the wind to protect any of the people you love. Are you still willing to leave?”

A growl started in the back of Spike’s throat, the thought of Xander, Willow or Tara being sacrificed to tactical expediency enraged him. “No!”

Rupert offered a hand up. “Good, I’m glad that is settled.”

#############################

Spike rode back to the house with Rupert, in plenty of time for dinner, as promised. Facing Wood still gave him pause, but ceding his place was off the table. Of course, they were the last to arrive.

Spike entered the house with Rupert at his shoulder. Conversation ceased when they walked in. Wood turned to face him, running his eyes up and down Spike as if searching for visible signs of the soul, eying the duster he wore. Spike drew himself up at the scrutiny, sparing a glance for Faith who stood at Wood’s elbow. She looked poised to attack in defense of her man. She needn’t bother, attacking the bloke held no appeal.

“Might as well get this over with,” Spike broke the silence. “Your mum was a great slayer. I won’t apologize for killing her, you couldn’t accept it and I can’t feel guilty enough to suit you. I was a different person then, not saying that as an excuse, just a fact. I know you want the coat, but I’m not giving it up, I’ve worn this for nearly 30 years, it’s part of me. Rest assured I will wear it carrying on her mission, I’m afraid that will have to do for comfort.”

Spike surveyed Wood’s stony face and wondered just what he could say to this man. In his typical fashion he winged it, not terribly interested in sugar coating the truth. “We can work together, we can avoid each other, or we can have it out once and for all, but I’m back to stay and I won’t be giving up my place.”

Spike risked taking his eyes off Wood to scan the other occupants of the room. Willow, Tara and Dawn were all frozen in place, possibly holding their breath. Xander’s gaze didn’t waver from Wood, clearly prepared to back Spike up if necessary.

Wood’s eyes flicked to Rupert behind Spike. Spike wasn’t foolish enough to turn around to follow his gaze and what he might see in the older watcher’s face was a mystery. Whatever it was, it decided him. He gave a sharp nod. “I’ll never forgive you, and I don’t trust you,” Wood began. “But they do.” He indicated the assembled Scoobies. “And that’s good enough for me to work with you.”

“Fair enough.” It was a considerably better outcome than he’d had any right to expect. The tension in the room was still ridiculously intense. He turned to Tara and clapped his hands together. “So, I imagine you’ve fixed something delicious.”

Xander fell into step next to him and Spike appreciated the sentiment too much to complain. He smiled at the table seating as people arranged for Wood and him to sit on opposite ends. It suited Spike as it afforded him a bit more time with Xander and Willow with Dawn and Tara serving as the buffer layer. He could tune into what Robin, Faith and Rupert discussed at the other end of the table, but his current companions interested him more. He relished his new perspective that allowed him to see them more fully as the people he loved when before the demon evaluated them accord to their utility.

“Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it I understand that,” Xander said, dishing up enough chicken cacciatore to feed a small army. “But I’m very curious. Bad dreams aside, you’re not brooding half as much as I thought you might. I mean, from what I understand, Angel hung out in alleys eating rats for a hundred years, and you seem, well, normal.”

Spike took a healthy helping of the stuffed hot peppers he suspected Tara made just for him while he contemplated his answer.

“Spike asked for the soul, Angel had his forced on him,” Willow postulated. “Tara told me about your aura.”

“That’s part of it,” Spike agreed. Obviously he needed to give this more thought as dropping the subject seemed unlikely.

“Spike just wasn’t as evil as Angelus,” Dawn stated authoritatively. “Not as much to atone for.”

As sweet as he found the assertion, Spike insisted on disabusing her of the notion. “Oh I did my fair share of evil, make no mistake. Has a bit more to do with our religious upbringing I think. See Angelus was Irish Catholic and I imagine he’s still trying to come up with an act of penitence that will come close to squaring him with eating his way through three nunneries that I know of. Not exactly the sort of thing that comes easily. I’m willing to bet he’s got a big board somewhere where he keeps a tally of all the people he’s saved.”

Xander snickered. “I’ll have to call Cordy and find out.”

“I didn’t see one while I was there,” Will said with a smile, “but it might have been hidden in an upstairs bedroom. So what’s so different about being Church of England?”

“For one thing, I don’t believe it’s possible to atone. My family were never Ritualists so we pretty much rely strictly on grace. When you’ve done as much wrong as I have, the fact that works won’t even get you halfway home becomes painfully clear. The regret burns just as deep, but the desperation isn’t as intense. And I happen to know Angel didn‘t spend all that time in alleys eating rats. I spent some quality time on the ocean floor thanks to him”

Calls for that story effectively changed the conversation as Spike intended it should. He still struggled to get his head around the forgiveness thing and discussing it around the dinner table wasn’t going to get it any straighter.

After dessert, he and Xander excused themselves for the promised alone time. Spike chose to ignore the look of disgust Wood threw their way. Much more pleasant things awaited him.

They barely got downstairs before the urge to feel bare skin overcame them both. Spike slipped his hands under Xander’s t-shirt, managing to slip it over his head before Xander could do the same for him. Getting rid of his own shirt took seconds and then they slammed together again, relearning each other’s mouths and fumbling to rid each other of their jeans. It took longer since they remained fused at the mouth while they kicked off shoes and stepped out of the rest of their clothes but that didn’t matter. They tumbled onto the bed together, hungry for each other, hands roaming purposefully to map newly revealed skin.

Spike found himself drawn to the juncture of Xander’s neck and shoulder, the faint outline of where he’d bitten before remained, marking the skin like a brand of ownership. Spike fastened his mouth on the spot, sucking and licking, contemplating biting again.

Xander tilted his head to the side, running a hand down his spine. “Anything you want, Spike. I’m all yours.”

Xander relaxed beneath him, offering his body for Spike’s pleasure. The demon inside howled in triumph at the submission, but the demon didn’t get unfettered control anymore. Xander’s submission carried the taint of premeditation to it and Spike wanted to know what idea had crawled into that shaggy head. With difficulty and regret his pulled himself far enough away to look Xander in the eye. “We playing a game, luv?”

Xander looked back with earnest sincerity and shook his head. “No game. Anything you want, it’s yours. There’s a soul torturing your demon, and I’m happy to give you anything you need to make the demon okay with that.” Xander gave a wry smile. “Being dominated by you isn’t actually a hardship, you know.”

Spike framed Xander’s face with his hands, kissing him softly. “Oh my brave, lovely boy,” he said, his heart choking him at the gift Xander wanted to give him. “We can do that, hell yes, we can do that, but not to appease the demon, and I had something else in mind for tonight, something long overdue.”

With that Spike rolled them so that Xander lay on top, nestled between Spike’s thighs. “I thought you could steer tonight.”

Bewilderment clouded Xander’s eyes for a moment, but was rather quickly replaced with lust as Spike arched beneath him to get him on the proper page. Spike loved that Xander didn’t waste time questioning his choice, but attacked his neck with blunt teeth, hands kneading Spike’s ass and pulling their bodies closer together as they rutted against each other.

Xander’s passion crashed over Spike and he gave himself up to the pure pleasure of the experience. Originally, he intended to give this to Xander as a gift, recompense for Xander’s acceptance of the demon’s need to dominate and control. As it happened, giving Xander the dominant role was no hardship for him either.

“God,” Xander gasped. “I’m not sure I can last long enough to get inside you.”

“I have faith in your stamina,” Spike whispered in his ear and shimmied against Xander, making him shudder.

“Not fair,” Xander gritted out, hips thrusting forward involuntarily.

Spike got his hand on Xander’s cock, gave it a squeeze and a twisting stroke and felt his hand and chest covered in warm and wet while Xander shivered in aftershock.

“Bastard,” Xander mumbled without heat into Spike‘s shoulder. “I’d really counted on lasting longer than that.”

“So,” Spike purred in challenge. “Now you can take your time and do it properly.”

Xander opened one eye to glare at Spike. It lacked effectiveness coupled with his sated expression. Just to prove his point Xander continued to lie prone across Spike for a full minute. Spike had no objection, luxuriating iin Xander’s warmth like a particularly heavy but comfortable blanket.

With a put upon sigh, Xander eventually heaved himself up. “My steering looks suspiciously like you steering from here.”

Spike spread his arms wide across the bed. “No more interfering on my part, I promise.” He couldn’t quite suppress the smug smile that crossed his face. He’d never imagined how delicious being loved this way could be.

Xander appeared to be considering breaking out the restraints, not that Spike would object to that either. Xander climbed off the bed to rummage in the nightstand, moments later he triumphantly produced a tube of lube.

“Hm, I have you at my mercy and time to play,” Xander said, clearly finding the prospect appealing. “Let’s see how your stamina holds out.”

Xander proceeded to tease and torment him mercilessly and Spike wondered why he had denied himself the pleasure of being at Xander’s mercy before. Xander was relentless, ramping him up and then pulling back just before he reached completion. Spike soaked up the attention and stayed true to his word, he gave no directions and kept his hands busy caressing tanned skin instead of guiding Xander where he wanted him. Although the former took a not inconsiderable amount of willpower as Xander had him dancing on the edge Spike longed to fall over.

Spike decided that begging didn’t count as steering and, eventually, Xander deemed Spike prepped to his satisfaction. Spike keened in pleasure as Xander slid home.

Xander seemed stuck on the theme of slow and gentle. “Xander,” Spike drew his name out to extra syllables. “You’re killing me here.”

Xander smirked and reminded him, “You’re already dead.” Then he leaned in for a long kiss, pressing Spike more firmly into the bed.

But mercy tempered his smugness and he picked up the pace of his thrusting, getting a nice angle that had Spike writhing in ecstasy. Xander arched his neck in clear invitation. “Some participation here Spike?“ Xander asked, as if there was a chance Spike could resist at this point. Spike sank his fangs deep into the muscle, Xander’s rich taste flooded his mouth and he spilled all over himself. After a few more erratic thrusts Xander followed suit, managing to roll off Spike before he collapsed.

They lay there limp and sated. “You definitely get to drive more often,” Spike declared, idly running his fingers over Xander’s chest.

Xander’s goofy grin solidified that resolve. “I had fun. As long as you’re sure.”

Spike saw that Xander still had reservations about the soul’s effect on him. Time to put those to rest, and he finally thought he had the words to do it. “The soul isn’t a prison, Xander. For the first time I understand you.” Spike laid his hand over Xander’s heart. “Truly understand you. I love you and the girls better.” He stumbled, that not being exactly the word he wanted. “More fully than I did before. Everything is richer now, I appreciate things I couldn’t before. I didn’t get the soul for you, I got it for me. Because however much it hurts, a human soul is an infinitely precious thing.”


End file.
